


Sadder Eyes Gonna Lean On (Happy Times)

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baked Goods, Digital Art, M/M, Mentioned Paul Landers/Oliver Riedel, Mentioned Richard Kruspe/Christoph Schneider, Pretzels, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and life at the Little Bear Soft Pretzel Company. (pretzel bakery AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song “Happy Times” by Emigrate, a song which I absolutely adore! 
> 
> This is by far the longest Richard/Paul story I have ever written, clocking in at just over 25, 000 words; the scary thing about it is, when I began to write, I expected it to be roughly about 8, 000 words, maximum. It kind of ran away from me a tad .... *muffled argh*

[](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/paulchen2/media/littlebear_zpslm39htgk.jpg.html)

Richard walked alone through the streets of Berlin, eyes slightly narrowed against the wind cutting along the streets; despite his narrow-eyed vision, he barely missed a thing, attention wandering as he aimed to take in as much as he could of the streets around him. Even though he’d been away from Berlin for barely four years, little had changed in the city of his birth, yet he was surprised at the plentitude of little details that actually were different. Businesses had gone in his absence, replaced by still others; the cafe he’d once liked to frequent had now been replaced by a Starbucks, sterile and charmless compared to the quaint little establishment he’d favoured so much.

Even the people had changed, mood and demeanour a little more sour, a little more harried than when he’d left; all seemed in more of a hurry, heads bowed with more than just the weight of the wind bearing down upon them. The traffic snarled and hooted impatiently in the streets, sending blares of noise arcing up towards the skies as though trying to communicate with unseen forces or life-forms. 

Richard huffed at his own train of thought; sometimes, his own flights of fancy baffled him, yet he found it hard to try and curb his own ideas. He cast his gaze up towards the skies, and saw the ever lowering clouds growing lower still, threatening to unburden themselves of the rain that had threatened all morning. Richard sighed; the weather hadn’t changed much in his absence either. It had been raining when he’d arrived the evening before and the day’s forecast predicted even more. 

He saw the dark lance of the Fernsehturm towering over everything as though it was trying to stab the sky, dark against the only slightly lighter backdrop of clouds. That at least was familiar, as much a part of Richard himself as it was a part of Berlin. He had to smile, if only to himself, over the fact that the old adage about taking the boy out of Berlin, but not Berlin out of the boy, had proven true in his case. Homesickness had proven too strong a lure for him, and he’d traced his steps from New York back to Berlin, heart-sick and weary, and more tired, more worn out than he ever remembered feeling in his entire life. Life in the supposed new world had not worked out for him, and the memories still left a sour taste in his mouth, to be washed away, hopefully, by the familiar streets and lines of Berlin. 

It smelt the same, if nothing else, and a great flood of memories came rushing back to him, of running through the streets as a boy, of running in excitement through the trees standing patiently in the Tiergarten, at the sights and smells of the Weihnachtsmarkt, of the taste of cinnamon and rum and raisin and Lebkuchen. Richard felt a renewed pang of homesickness, washed away by relief when he remembered that he was home, home at last where he belonged, where he should never have left at all. 

A sudden growl of hunger grumbled its way through his stomach, and a sharp stab of hunger-pain followed in its course; he rubbed one hand over his stomach, and reminded himself that he had to eat sometimes. He remembered the multitudes of pizzas he’d consumed in New York, the amount of deli sandwiches and burgers, and the soft pretzels that were supposed to be authentic but were nothing like the ones that could be freely bought in Berlin. 

His mind lingered on the thoughts of the curiously twisted bread, of the way the stiff crust of the pretzel gave way beneath his teeth and the salty tang of the treat yielded to a pleasant, yeasty flavour. Richard’s stomach growled louder still, more insistently and he knew that he wanted pretzels, real home-made Berlin pretzels more than he wanted anything else right then. He turned back onto Alexenderplatz once more, as a vague recollection of seeing a new pretzel bakery there sifted back into his mind, bright lights beckoning him back to its door from where he’d hurried past earlier with barely a second glance. With a struggle, he remembered that the bakery had had a cute name - the Little Bear Soft Pretzel Company. The smell of the place grew stronger as his steps drew him inexorably closer towards it and his pace picked up as a consequence, as though the combined scents of cheese, of pepper, of sweet cinnamon and sugary raisins were his own particular, peculiar siren song. 

Richard’s hands smacked against the plate glass upper section of the door in his haste to push it open and the barrier gave way before him; his senses were flooded with bright chatter and warmth, lights bright yet somehow intimately cosy and that warm smell of freshly baked goods, both savoury and sweet beckoned him further in. Richard only realized that he was smiling when he stepped fully inside the building, allowing the door to swing shut behind him with a comforting clunk, as though the bakery itself was accepting him when no one else would. 

He received a few smiles in return from fellow customers, who’d probably mistakenly assumed that he’d been smiling at them; Richard didn't care, neither did he want to correct their mistake. He plodded forward and joined the end of the shortest queue, eyes scanning the closest chalk-covered menu board, amazed at how many choices there were on offer. He wondered why the New Yorkers had been so slow on the uptake in this regard, yet he felt a surge of unexpected, almost patriotic joy over that fact that they hadn’t - of course, Berliners could show the New Yorkers a thing or two when it came to food. There was nothing quite like German food, in all the world, in Richard's eyes, and nothing could take that away from him, not even four years away from it all.

“Someone’s happy,” a deep voice said, from nearby and it was only then that Richard realized that the queue before him had melted away until there was only a gap between himself and the man behind the counter.

He lowered his gaze from the menu board and almost swallowed his breath; he choked a little upon it before swiftly recovering himself, hoping that the other man hadn’t noticed his hesitation, brief though it had been. The man facing him, obviously waiting for his response as well as his order, was good-looking in that kind-faced sense that Richard had always preferred, dark brown hair mostly hidden by an unflattering white paper cap that was probably more for health and safety reasons than for fashion. The man was smiling at him, patiently, yet there was an undercurrent of cheekiness beneath that smile, and a faint hint of a much nicer grin if only the other man would unleash it. His eyes were that indeterminate shade between blue and dark grey, large and oddly mournful, touched with further kindness and something oddly mysterious and compelling. Richard couldn’t stop his gaze from travelling over the other man’s body, checking him out beneath the cover of the man’s flour-covered uniform; the other man had what looked to be a nice body hidden beneath his clothing; Richard approved, greatly. Richard had never believed in love at first sight, nor even lust at first glance, yet in that one moment, he thought he knew what it meant. 

“Happy to be home,” he said, finally, in response to the man’s prior question.

“Oh? Been on holiday?” the man asked, with a polite, yet still friendly, grin. 

That time, his grin showed teeth, and deep lines fanned from the corners of his eyes at the appearance of it. Richard had been right; the man was in possession of a really lovely grin.

“Not quite,” Richard said, with a suddenly embarrassed cough masked behind a swiftly raised hand. “I guess I emigrated for a while. Now I’m back.”

“Lucky for you or for us?” the man asked, with one raised eyebrow.

“I’m not sure yet,” Richard replied, and immediately cursed himself for saying something potentially stupid.

The man behind the counter didn’t seem to think it an odd thing to say, at all, for he laughed delightedly, nose wrinkling in his apparent mirth. Richard couldn’t help but laugh back at him and the gesture seemed effortless, genuine and a relief to give into another emotion other than sadness and moroseness. 

“What can I get you, anyway? I can assure you we make the best pretzels in Berlin, even though I do make a lot of them myself,” the man said. 

It was only then that Richard realized that the man was sporting a name-badge on his shirt; he checked it, curious as to the man’s name. It was, apparently, Paul; Richard didn’t think that the man looked like a Paul, but he couldn’t argue with the name badge. 

“You have so many choices, y‘know?” Richard commented, as he checked the menu again, a little overwhelmed by the names and the ingredients. “I don’t suppose you cold recommend something to me, could you, please?”

“To ease the pain of homesickness and welcome you back to Berlin? I think I can do that,” Paul said, confidently and for a moment, it seemed as though he’d been privy to Richard’s earlier thoughts. “I suggest that you try the sour cream and chive pretzel if you’re a savoury man, yet I have been known to be wrong on occasion. If you’re a sweet man, then I suggest rum and raisin.” 

“It depends on my mood,” Richard said, without thinking, before cursing himself once again for loose-tongued stupidity.

“Sometimes it‘s best to have one of each; it saves indecision,” Paul laughed easily. 

“Well, I think I’ll take one of each, then, if you don’t mind,” Richard said, sheepishly. “I can always eat the remainder later if I can’t eat it all now, y’know?”

“I doubt you’ll have any left, but we’ll see,” Paul said, as he tipped Richard a cheeky little wink that Richard rather liked. “You’ve made a good choice, even if I do say so myself. Coming right up, sir.” 

Richard had to hide a laugh at being referred to as ‘sir‘, yet it seemed effortless from Paul somehow, and he found that he rather liked that too. He found himself idly wondering whether the other man had a girlfriend or, better still, was gay and single.

“Your pretzels, sir,” Paul said, breaking into Richard’s reflective thoughts suddenly. “That’ll be four Euros, to you.” 

Richard was surprised at that; for some reason, he’d expected the price to be higher. He gladly paid the four Euros, and picked up the crinkling paper packages which held his freshly bought snack. He smiled at the warmth that seeped into his palm through the packaging, before he cast a glance around at the shop.

“Mind if I stay here and eat them?” he asked, suddenly unwilling to return home to the make-shift Gasthof he called his temporary home. 

“If you can find a seat, then you’re more than welcome to,” Paul replied, with another wink for Richard's benefit. “Enjoy your pretzels.”

“I will,” Richard said, and he had no doubt that he would.


	2. Chapter 2

:::

The smells wafted up from the bag temptingly as he settled at a small table tucked away in a darkened, solitary corner of the pretzel bakery. Richard didn’t mind the solitude that the lonely place setting gave him; instead, he rather welcomed it. He inhaled deeply of the fragrant scents of the still warm pretzels, before he slid the sour cream and chive snack from out of its paper packaging. Richard savoured the smell a while longer, and the warmth of the bready treat upon his fingers before he finally allowed himself to sink his teeth into the soft treat; he almost groaned aloud in appreciation as the sour, yet oddly almost cheesy taste, flooded across his taste-buds, subtly complemented by the oniony taste of the chives. He chewed voraciously and the pretzel was almost consumed before he even realized it. Reluctantly, he finished it off, before he wiped the crumbs away from his fingers upon a nearby napkin. 

Paul surprisingly stopped beside his table, a can of ginger beer held in one strong-looking hand, just as Richard was lifting the rum and raisin pretzel from its papery moorings. Richard looked up in surprise at the other man, before he tilted his head to the side quizzically at him, gaze drifting from the condensation soaked can up to Paul’s face. 

“I know you didn’t ask for this, but I figured you’d want a drink,” Paul said, with a sheepish smile at Richard. “You can tell me if I’m being presumptuous.”

Richard cleared his throat, only realizing when Paul pointed it out that he was actually quite thirsty. 

“Actually, I would like a drink, thanks,” he said, as he fumbled around in his pocket for his wallet. “How much is that?”

“Uh, it’s no problem. I covered the cost of it,” Paul said, and there was a slight tinge of embarrassment to his face at that.

Even his mouth had turned a little soft at the corners with the intensity of his embarrassment and for one awful moment, Richard thought that Paul would take both the drink and his intended kindness away with him. He arched for the can tentatively, fingers accidentally brushing alongside Paul’s as he took it from him. The contact, accidental though it had initially been, was noticeably prolonged; Paul did not immediately pull away and neither did Richard. Instead, they shared an embarrassed smile, and Richard’s grin widened slightly when Paul's hand immediately lifted from where it had once held the can to the back of his neck. Richard watched as those strong fingers kneaded his neck and briefly wondered what those same hands would feel like touching his own body. 

“Thanks,” Richard forced himself to say to cover the silence. “For the drink. It really is appreciated.”

“I’m glad,” Paul said, with a brief, but still nice, grin. “How’s your pretzels?” 

“The savoury one was delicious,” Richard replied, immediately, with enthusiasm. “I’m sure the rum and raisin one will be just as lovely.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. I hope you enjoy it,” Paul said, before he glanced over his shoulder at the ever growing queue at the counter. “I’d best get back to the grindstone before there's a riot.” 

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Richard laughed.

“You don't know what people are capable of when they’re hungry ... hungry for pretzels,” Paul said, over-dramatically, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Richard laughed again at that, and was still grinning as Paul left him with a brief wave and a grin thrown over his shoulder at Richard. Richard watched him walk away, gaze immediately travelling over Paul’s back and coming to rest against the other man’s ass. Paul, Richard discovered, had a really nice ass. He heard Paul’s chuckle reaching towards him and he guiltily glanced up, to see that Paul was watching him again over his shoulder. Paul, Richard gladly noted, did not look annoyed; instead. he was grinning, a little shyly that time and in so doing, almost collided with one of the customers he was purportedly supposed to be serving. 

Richard chuckled himself at that, even as he popped the can open and took a long swallow of the cool liquid; whilst it was not his usual choice of drink, he still enjoyed the refreshing coolness of it. He took another draught, before he started in on the rum and raisin pretzel; if anything, that impossibly was better than the first had been. He closed his eyes and smiled through his next few mouthfuls and was disappointed when the pretzel was finally consumed. He sighed, and stared disconsolately down at the empty paper packets laying sadly upon the table-top, too full to order more, yet wishing for them all the same. 

He glanced over to where Paul stood behind the cash register, yet the other man was too busy with customers to engage in further talk; Richard couldn’t help but feel the sudden and resultant stab of disappointment rushing through him at that, yet he knew that Paul had a job to do. Besides which, they’d only just met and Richard knew that he could never presume to have a monopoly on the other man’s time, just because of a few pleasantries and a seemingly free can of drink. 

As if Paul sensed that Richard was looking in his direction, he glanced up, and his gaze met that of Richard's; Paul’s face immediately broke into a friendly grin, far friendlier than Richard expected or thought that he deserved. He couldn’t help but return the grin immediately, effortlessly, before Paul’s attentions were stolen once again by the next customer in line. Richard sighed in frustration but the warm feeling that had spread through his chest at the other man’s grin still, surprisingly, remained. He knew that he could always return to the pretzel bakery again; he also knew that he would be kidding himself if he pretended it was merely just for the food, excellent though it was. 

Richard sighed in mounting frustration; he could not put off the inevitable any longer. It was getting late and he had to return to the Gasthof where he'd been staying, to sleep if nothing else. Once again, Richard promised himself that he would find a more permanent place to live and to work, if he genuinely wanted to make a go of things in Berlin again. 

::::

By the end of the week, he’d made enquiries into the availability of apartments to rent, yet had come up with several definite refusals, due to there being none free, some maybes and one yes. The yes, as it turned out, was in a particularly rough section of town that Richard didn’t take a shine to, at all; coupled with that, the electricity in the flat had been intermittent at best, cutting out from the vibrations of the nearby train, whilst the water flow had been all but non-existent and distinctly brown when it did trickle.

The job situation did not look much brighter, although Richard had made at least one application in a local diner; although he was not looking for that type of work, he knew that he didn’t have much of a choice. If his application proved successful, it, at least, would provide him with a foot in the door of employment, and enough money over time, to pursue the work he really wanted. The pay was halfway decent too, with more to be made in tips if the customers were particularly generous; Richard didn't hold out much hope for that. In his personal experience, people weren’t that friendly to him as a rule. 

He sighed his way along Alexanderplatz again, peering into random shop windows in the hopes of seeing advertisers for job vacancies, when his steps brought him to the door of the Little Bear Soft Pretzel Company again. Whilst he tried telling himself that he’d merely happened upon the place naturally whilst searching for a job, he wondered if perhaps he was kidding himself and that his steps had taken a more willing, more knowing track than that, lured there by a nice grin and a pair of smoky grey-blue eyes. 

He couldn’t help but notice that a small scrap of paper had been carelessly taped to the window beside the door, as though the person who’d taped it there was careless, in a rush, or perhaps not very hopeful of a suitable applicant. The job was for a pretzel baker, required for early starts and potentially long shifts; Richard noted that the pay was actually good, or good enough to tempt him at least.

He stared at the flyer again, chewing his lower lip as he deliberated whether to actually ask for the job or not. His mind kept pinging back to Paul, and whether the other man would think that he was stalking him if he even dared to apply. Richard cursed beneath his breath, and decided to hell with it; he couldn’t very well help his need for a job, and therefore money, if the Little Bear really was looking for employees. 

He pushed open the door, and whilst the bakery was comfortably busy, it was not quite as hectic as it had been the other day; Paul even had almost worked his way through his share of customers. A tall, bearded man beside him was not so lucky; his serving space was still inundated with a long queue. Richard breathed a sigh of relief, and decided that if he had to ask anyone, he would rather ask Paul. He seemed friendly enough. 

He wandered over to Paul‘s till, undecided as to whether he should actually greet the other man or not. To do so might seem creepy and prepossessing; after all, they'd barely spoken the other day, even if Paul had given him a drink on the house. He was saved from further deliberation by Paul’s sudden delighted grin when the other man spotted him; it seemed as though Paul remembered him, after all. 

“Oh, so you came back for more, after all, did you?” Paul asked, as Richard leant his elbows against the countertop.

“Yeah,” Richard replied, with a grin, but he could feel his own distraction marring the expression. “I was in the area, so decided to pop in for a snack again.”

“Good,” Paul said, pleased. “Any requests today?”

“Any suggestions?” Richard countered, with a grimace as he stared up at the menu board again.

Once again, he felt the overwhelming choices assailing him, senses overwhelmed by the sheer amount of flavours and toppings. He glanced back down at the waiting Paul, to see that the other man looked amused, yet thoughtfully calculating. Paul’s left eye was squished partially shut as he scrutinized Richard closely.

“I don’t think you’re a hot person, at least not in the spicy food sense, I don’t,” Paul said, slowly, with a brief grin that was there and gone in an instant.

Richard blinked, uncertain as to whether he’d heard correctly, and whether he ought to take Paul’s words as a compliment. 

“You’re not into jalapenos, are you?” Paul continued as though he hadn't said anything and Richard was no longer certain about anything at all, then. 

“No, I’m not good with spicy food,” Richard said, slowly. “Currywurst is my absolute start and end of all that I like about spice.” 

“Currywurst? Now that is something I haven’t thought of as a topping for pretzels,” Paul said, brightly. “Good idea, that man.” 

“You’re welcome?” Richard asked, uncertainly.

“Hmm. Pepperoni? D’you like a bit of the old sausage?” Paul said, with an all too innocent expression on his face. 

“Yes?” Richard asked, again, uncertain as to whether that was the right answer or not.

Suddenly he couldn’t even remember whether he even liked pepperoni. 

“You do? Then the Pepperoni is absolutely commendable,” Paul said. 

“I’ll take that one then,” Richard said. “And a sugar cinnamon one too, please.” 

“Good choice,” Paul said, brightly 

Richard nodded, feeling some of his old confidence returning once more. He caught himself when he remembered the advert in the front window.

“Ah, yes; there is something else, by the way,” Richard said.

“A drink?” Paul asked, as he wrapped up the requested pretzels diligently. 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind, y‘know,” Richard replied, slowly. “Same as yesterday, if you would.” 

“Coming right up, sir,” Paul said, brightly.

“Richard,” Richard corrected, suddenly. 

Paul looked askance at him, a bright smile shimmering against his lips hopefully.

“My name. It’s Richard,” Richard expanded, tiredly. 

“Ah! Well, it’s nice to put a name to the face,” Paul said, even as he tapped his own name badge with one long finger. “I’m Paul. Nice to meet you, Richard.”

Richard nodded, distractedly. 

“Nice to meet you, too, Paul. I was going to ask after the job you had advertised in your front window,” Richard said, in some embarrassment. “Beside the door.”

Paul looked a little surprised at that, as though he hadn’t expected Richard to even be interested in the job. 

”You’ll have to fill in a form; I’m actually holding the interviews next week, or was planning to,” Paul said, slowly. “Hold on a minute and I’ll get you what you need.’

Richard nodded, as sudden inexplicable nervousness twisted through his gut; nice as Paul seemed, Richard couldn’t stand the idea of the other man possibly judging him and finding him lacking in something. Suddenly, he desperately wanted to impress the other man. Paul returned with a form held tightly between strong fingers, yet there was an hopeful smile on his face that Richard was encouraged by. 

“Like I said, I’m conducting the interviews next week; I hope you’ll be available?” Paul asked.

The sudden realization that Paul was actually the manager of the Little Bear, and not an employee as he’d initially assumed, came as a surprise to Richard.

“Sure,” Richard said, quietly, as he took the proffered form from Paul’s outstretched hand. “Any day except Tuesday. I’m looking at apartments, then.”

Paul nodded, seriously.

“Just be yourself at the interview,” Paul suddenly said, apropos to nothing. “Just like you’ve been with me so far.”

He smiled, and Richard felt a sudden inexplicable surge of hope at that, as though he’d already won half the battle, even before he’d even known he’d been fighting a thing. That Paul seemed to have been implying that Richard had already impressed him pleased Richard, even though it made him feel like the eternal schoolboy; Paul didn’t look that much older than him, after all. 

“Good luck, next week,” Paul said, and he seemed quite sincere with his wishes.

“Thank you,” Richard said, as tried to muster his best, most confident, smile.

Paul grinned back and Richard's awkwardness melted away a little beneath the warmth of it. Richard folded the form away into his jacket pocket, and took his food away with him that day; he sat in amongst the quietude of the Tiergarten, trees rustling in the breezes as he slowly consumed his lunch, fingers pushing his biro across the pages, as he filled in the questions as honestly as he could. He didn’t feel like returning the form to the bakery, once he’d finally finished; he didn’t want to seem too eager, and put Paul off for good. Richard sighed and stuffed the form into his jacket pocket again, before he rose to return to his makeshift home for the night. 

:::


	3. Chapter 3

:::

Paul looked up as soon as he felt as though he was beneath someone’s nervous scrutiny; he grinned when he recognised the man that had asked for the application form the day before hovering nearby - Richard, Paul reminded himself without much of an effort. There was something about the man, something that hinted at so much more hidden behind what was, undeniably a broodingly attractive face, some inner sense of upset distraction, as though the other man had a lot on his mind and didn’t quite know how to deal with it all, or how to even deal with himself. Paul was intrigued, and knew that he was definitely more than a little attracted to Richard; he wanted to get to know the other man a little better if only Richard himself would permit it. 

Paul wasn’t sure, but there were times when Richard looked at him, in the way that seemed to indicate great, and deep, interest, as though the other man might possibly reciprocate some of Paul’s attraction; Paul hoped that that was real, and that he was not projecting his own emotions onto someone who didn’t feel the same way. 

“You came back,” he said, pleased, as he reached, unbidden for the form.

His hand touched lightly against Richard's own and Paul dared to brush his forefinger lingeringly against the other man‘s; Richard eyes partially closed and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he seemed almost to hold his breath, a slight smile curving the corners of his lips as he cast his gaze down and then up at Paul again. Paul saw definite interest in the other man’s gaze then, heated and real and more than a little predatory. A thrill of excitement coursed through Paul’s body at that and he knew, that if Richard would pursue it a little further, then Paul himself would prove a willing captive, after the chase had run its course. 

“Have you got contact details on there ... Richard?” Paul asked, not wanting to sound too hasty in using the other man’s name.

“My mobile number,” Richard said, and there was a sudden look of embarrassment staining the other man’s cheeks a pleasurable shade of pink. “I haven’t got another number, at least not yet.”

“A mobile number is fine,” Paul said, assured him. “I prefer using mobiles anyway.”

“Ah, good,” Richard said, but he didn’t look any less embarrassed.

In fact, he’d even lifted one broad hand and was massaging the black of his neck with long fingers, a smile still curving his lips abashedly. Paul grinned back.

“So how’s your apartment hunt going? You mentioned looking for some on Tuesday,” he prompted, as a way to fill the embarrassed silence.

“Not good, so far,” Richard replied, with a shrug. “Most have been absolute shit, if you’ll forgive me saying so, those that aren’t already taken, that is.”

Paul laughed at that and nodded; of course, he was only too aware of the housing situation in Berlin, right then.

“Apartments are few and far between right now,” he agreed. “Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll find something.” 

“Thanks,” Richard said, before he turned his gaze up to the menu again. “Have you any nice recommendations today, Paul?” 

Paul shivered pleasurably beneath the weight of his name upon the other man’s tongue; Paul could just imagine the way that Richard might say his name on release, of how his hands might feel upon his body in open caresses, of how Richard's body might feel against his own whilst they shared a bed.

“Paul?” Richard prompted, and there was an amused look of concern on his face at the repetition of Paul's name. 

“I’m sorry, I heard,” Paul said. “I was miles away. Away with the fairies.” 

“I think we all get like that sometimes,” Richard said, with a polite smile.

“Makes it easier when you are one,” Paul said, with a dry snort. 

He cursed suddenly, silently and wondered why he’d even said such a thing.

“What?” Richard asked, obvious surprise on his face.

“A fairy,” Paul said, with a roll of his eyes and a self-deprecating laugh. “Private joke, sorry.”

“Well, I think it takes one to know one, if you know what I mean,” Richard said, quietly. “You’re not the only fairy in the room.” 

“Oh,” Paul said, in sudden pleased surprise. “At least we’re both in good company, yes?” 

“Definitely,” Richard said, and his gaze met that of Paul’s.

Paul grinned, and Richard returned it and there was a sudden spark of understanding flashing between them at that; their laughter, when it came, was warm and genuine, and companionably relaxed. Paul suddenly felt as though a test had been posed and passed on both their parts, and he was glad that he seemed not to have read Richard so wrongly after all. 

“And I’m sorry, I’m a bad bakery owner, aren’t I? I can’t have my new favourite customer going hungry, can I?” he asked, as he too, turned to peruse the menu.

“Do you have many?” Richard asked, teasingly, yet there was a hint of seriousness beneath the warmth.

“What, you mean customers?” Paul asked, only being partially serious.

“Favourite ones,” Richard clarified, yet Paul was glad to see that there was laughter in his tone and in his eyes. “You knew what I meant.”

“Not many,” Paul said, with a shrug. “Just one, actually.” 

Richard’s grin was immediate and warm; Paul saw that the other man really did have a nice smile, unguarded and friendly and more than a little dirty. 

“I think you’d like the pizza pretzel, today,” Paul said, a questioning note in his tone. “Or would you like a Nutella stuffed one instead? I still haven’t figured out whether you’re a sweet or a savoury man.”

“Does it matter all that much?” Richard asked, in surprise.

“Everyone has their weakness and preferences,” Paul stated, as though it was the fact that it was. “I, for instance, am a sweet man.”

“I know,” Richard said, seemingly without thinking.

Paul wasn’t sure how to take that so merely took it as the compliment it was intended to be. He nodded his thanks, but he didn’t think that Richard noticed.

“I’m not sure, either,” Richard said, a little disconsolately. “I guess it depends what mood I’m in.” 

“Well, you can have the best of both of worlds, then, considering you can‘t decide,” Paul pointed out. “Probably better off that way, to be honest.”

“Maybe,” Richard said, but he didn’t look happy about it.

Again, Paul saw that sadness he’d detected before in Richard’s gaze and it, in turn, made him sad. He wondered what Richard's dark secret was, even though he knew that it really was none of his business. 

“How about you take one of each again, huh?” Paul suggested. “Seeing as you like it both ways.”

Richard laughed again at that and the warmth leached back into his face again, replacing most, if not all, of the prior sadness. 

“Only in some things,” he assured Paul.

“Good,” Paul said, as though it really mattered to him. “That’s what we like to hear.”

Again Richard laughed and there was a certain fondness, even wistfulness in his gaze when he looked upon Paul then, longing trapped deep in his eyes as though he almost wanted to ask something yet was fearful of having something he plainly couldn’t have. Paul wanted to tell him then that he wasn’t out of Richard’s reach, that if he wanted to ask him out then Paul wouldn't be able to refuse. Richard didn't though and Paul felt a surge of disappointment flashing hotly through his body.

He turned away to cover his own disappointment and bustled around whilst wrapping up Richard's purchases, before he slipped the packages across the counter-top towards the other man. Again, their hands met and lingered one against the other; Paul closed his eyes momentarily at the surge of lust that rocketed to his abdomen. He cleared his throat and tried to distract himself from an impending erection with thoughts of job interviews and application forms. 

“I’ll be in touch maybe Wednesday?” Paul asked, as he tapped Richard’s form again. “I’ll probably want to interview you on Friday if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Richard said, uncertainly.

“I’ll call, just to confirm,” Paul assured him.

“Thank you; I’d appreciate that,” Richard said. “I’ll see you next week, hopefully.”

“You will and good luck,” Paul said, and he found that he really meant it.

Richard nodded and waved before he wandered out of the shop. Paul watched him leaving and as such, was still watching when Richard partially turned to stare at Paul with that longing look on his face again. Richard caught Paul’s eyes upon him, but didn’t drop his own; instead, he grinned, waved and, surprisingly, gave Paul a cheeky wink. Paul laughed at that and winked back.

“Jesus, someone's got it bad,” muttered a voice from nearby.

Paul turned to stare up at Olli, one of his employees, with an arched eyebrow.

“What was that, Olli?” Paul asked. “I thought you said something.”

“That customer. You’ve got it bad,” Olli said, and there was a glint of devilment behind Olli’s usually shy and unassuming smile. “Anyone can see you want to fuck each other.”

“That’s enough, Olli,” Paul said, as he turned away in embarrassment.

“Well, I notice you didn’t deny it,” Olli pointed out. 

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” Paul asked, as he felt his embarrassment growing deeper. 

“When it comes to you, I do,” Olli pointed out.

“Perceptive giant bastard,” Paul muttered, even as he nudged Olli gently in the side.

Olli laughed at that even as he gave Paul a partial, yet still affectionate, hug, even as they were joined by Till, another of Paul’s employees.

“Go after him, Paulchen,” Olli advised. “You deserve some happiness. I think he’d do you good.”

“Yeah?” Paul asked, as he tilted a wistful gaze up at Olli. “There’s something about him, isn’t there?” 

“He’s got a fine arse, if nothing else,” Till suddenly chipped in, proving that he’d been listening all along.

“I wasn’t looking at his arse, Till,” Paul said, and hoped that the others wouldn’t catch him out in his lie. 

“Liar,” Till said, immediately, who knew Paul too well. 

Paul merely gave him the middle finger, even as Olli stood by and laughed. 

::::


	4. Chapter 4

::::

Paul proved as good as his word and called Richard the following Wednesday and arranged to meet with Richard on Friday afternoon, at the Little Bear Soft Pretzel Company. Richard disconnected from the call, feeling the beginning of hope and something like happiness filtering into his body; he’d had further good news the day before through finally sorting out new living arrangements. Whilst he had nothing much in the way of furniture, now living in an empty shell of an apartment, he was glad to at least have a roof over his head. 

Friday arrived in a wash of rare sunlight and Richard tried to make himself look as neat and as professional as possible; he turned up at the pretzel bakery with five minutes to spare. Paul was waiting for him behind the counter and beckoned him behind the counter with a welcoming grin. Richard followed the other man through to the kitchen area, up a flight of stairs that twisted and turned sharply into a surprisingly spacious open plan office area. The windows were open and admitted fresh spring breeze into the room which cooled it down slightly. 

“Take a seat,” Paul offered as he settled himself down behind the office’s only desk and looked down at Richard's application form again.

Richard did as he’d asked, shifting nervously against the hard wooden seat, before affecting a pseudo-relaxed pose, more for Paul’s benefit than his own. Paul didn’t seem to notice, too busy with shuffling papers set seemingly haphazardly before him. It was only then that Richard realized that Paul appeared as nervous as he felt, yet was trying equally to cover it up. That at least made Richard feel a little better, yet it also made him curious as to whether Paul was always like that, or whether it was just Richard himself that had unsettled the other man. If Paul’s interest the other day had been genuine and not feigned, Richard guessed that it might have something to do with Paul’s current nervousness than anything else. 

“Okay, Richard, so why do you want to work for my company?” Paul asked, as he cast a pleasant smile at Richard. “Other than the obvious reason, of course.” 

He mimed holding a handful of money, which made Richard laugh; that had been at the forefront of his mind, after all, yet he knew that he could not admit to it being the real reason why he wanted the job. 

“I’m really looking to get back into work again after spending four years away from Berlin,” Richard started, before pausing, wondering just how much to reveal about his time away.

“Four years. Quite a while, huh?” Paul asked, but he said no more.

“I needed the time away,” Richard said, immediately feeling his defenses rising, yet he tried to hide any perceived sharpness in his tone with a smile.

He wasn’t sure whether he was entirely successful, however, but Paul didn’t seem to mind, or otherwise he chose not to take offence. Richard wasn’t sure which. 

“I wasn’t in trouble, just to clear that up,” Richard supplied, with a laugh that was a little more genuine. “There was just some stuff I needed to take some time away from, y’know?”

“I think we all need to get away from things, sometimes,” Paul said, musingly, but there was a look in his eye that made Richard wonder if Paul, too, had something he wanted to get away from. “Life just gets you like that, doesn’t it?”

“In a word, yes,” Richard said, wondering if perhaps he had an ally after all. 

Paul grinned at that, a small huffing laugh escaping from between bared teeth, before he rubbed at the stubble on his chin musingly. 

“So, you went away, and came back and now you want to work here,” Paul mused. “Have you any experience with working in a food environment before?”

“Not a bakery, as such,” Richard admitted, slowly. “Although I have worked in shops before, mainly clothes retail, or a supermarket once.”

“Well, that’s a start. At least you do have some retail experience,” Paul said, with an appreciative nod. 

He looked pleased by Richard’s admission and Richard himself felt a surge of confidence at that. 

“What did you like the most about your previous work?” Paul asked, as he looked down at his papers again.

“Working with customers,” Richard said, immediately. “I’ve always been told that I’m good with people. And I like working at the till.” 

“And what do you think you can bring to my company, Richard?” Paul asked, as he glanced up at Richard, with a smile that suddenly aroused a surge of lust to pour through Richard's body.

Richard had sudden visions of bedrooms, candlelit suppers and nights spent beneath the sheets, caressing Paul’s body and making love to him long into the night. He coughed and shifted in his seat uncomfortably, trying to will away the sudden, partial erection such thoughts had given him. 

“Experience,” Richard said, mind still firmly on sex. “Willingness to work and to learn new things, should I need to. I’m a quick learner too.” 

“Eager to please, I’ll bet,” Paul muttered, before he, too, cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Depends on how you want me to please,” Richard said, without thinking, before he silently cursed himself for opening his mouth and potentially putting his foot in it.

Paul’s laugh, when it came, was loud and genuine and Richard looked up, to see Paul’s eyes closed in sudden mirth, nose wrinkled in a cute manner, fine wrinkles radiating from the other man’s eyes.

“Nice; I like it,” Paul said, tone warm with his continued laughter. “I can see I’m gonna like you.” 

“Yes?” Richard asked, hopefully, but didn’t dare to ask whether Paul’s words were a good sign or not. 

Paul merely tipped him a wink, before the questions moved on; Richard gave detailed examples of times he’d given good customer service, of whether Richard wanted part time or full time work, and whether he was prepared for hard work. 

At the end of the interview, Paul’s grin was genuine and happy and he stood, hand extended towards Richard. Richard took it, shook it, and felt a frisson of pleasure rocket through his body from where Paul gripped him a little too long and too hard, yet Richard did nothing to cut off the contact. Paul’s smile, when it came was introspective, yet hopeful; Richard hoped that his own grin wasn’t too lustful or dirty. 

“Okay, thanks so much for coming in today,” Paul said. “I should be getting in touch with you in the coming week. If you haven’t heard from me in the next couple of days, then you’re sadly unsuccessful. I still have a few people yet to interview but I genuinely do wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks,” Richard said, as he followed Paul from the room, and down the winding stairs again. 

Paul even had the courtesy to accompany him to the door, chatting amiably all the while about the weather and football; Richard enjoyed the chatter, even though it was mostly friendly and inane. He couldn’t help but think that perhaps Paul was trying to prolong the conversation for as long as he could. Finally, Paul allowed Richard to leave, yet, Richard felt genuine reluctance to break off the conversation. 

:::

The following day, Richard's phone rang. He picked up after the fourth ring, mouth still crammed with the morning’s toast and cold meat.

“Kruspe,” he said, by way of greeting.

“Richard? This is Paul from the Little Bear Soft Pretzel Company?” came Paul’s by now familiarly deep voice.

“Oh, hallo, Paul,” Richard said, hope suddenly springing into his chest at the sound of the other man’s voice. “How are you?”

That Paul was calling back so soon after the interview could only mean one thing in Richard's hopeful eyes. 

“I’m good, thank you. How are you?” Paul asked, but there was an edge to his tone, as though of great excitement just aching to be let free.

“I’m ... okay, I think. At the moment,” Richard said, with an easy laugh.

Paul’s chuckle was immediate and touchable, and it felt like a warm and living thing caressing against Richard’s body; Richard shuddered and tried to distract himself from his own burgeoning erection by taking a swallow of now too cold coffee. 

“I’m calling about your interview yesterday.,” Paul said, getting down to business. “I’d like to offer you the job, if you’re still interested.”

“Oh, I’m interested,” Richard said, thoughts of Paul naked in his bed turning his tone dark and a little dirty.

“Good, I’m glad,” Paul replied, and Richard wasn’t sure, by the tone of his voice, as to what Paul was actually referring to. “I’ve decided to give you the full time position if that’s agreeable. I don’t know, some skinny guy with an unusual nickname that Till took a shine to is getting the part-time position, and I really shouldn’t be talking like that about Flake, should I, really?”

Richard laughed at that, before he said - “If you talk about him like that, it makes me wonder how you described me!” 

“Hmm, well, that’s best left to another time, when we get to know each other better,” Paul said, and there was enough heat in his tone that let Richard know that whatever Paul had said could only have been good, or at least, dirtily rude.

“I’ll look forward to that time, then,” Richard said, a smile warming his tone.

“Me, too,” Paul said. “How are you for starting on the 14th? Good?”

“That’s fine,” Richard said, with a shrug that Paul was destined never to see.

“Good. Well, we need to get you trained first, which I will be over-seeing. Till’s looking after Flake and he was rather insistent about that,” Paul said, and Richard could hear the shrug in his tone even over the phone.

“Of course,” Richard said, uncertain as to what else he could say to Paul's comment. 

“Well, I’ll see you on the 14th, bright and early. 6 am, start,” Paul said, breezily.

Richard winced at that, yet sudden thoughts of seeing Paul early in the morning, of being personally trained by him, sent rushes of sudden desire racing through him. They chatted amiably for a while before the call ended, and Richard fled gladly to the bathroom, where he ran himself a cold shower, hand soon moving confidently over his erection whilst he thought exclusively of Paul. 

:::


	5. Chapter 5

The 14th dawned in a burst of cold rain, grey skies lowering over Berlin streets; Richard slouched and shivered his way through the door of the soft pretzel bakery, inhaling the scents of yeast and the acrid scent of lye wash, coupled with a myriad other scents. Paul was behind the counter waiting for him, grinning at Richard’s sleep tousled state, he held the counter door open for Richard as he tipped him a wink of welcome.

“You came,” Paul said.

“Not yet,” Richard immediately replied, which earned him a laugh from Paul.

“Later, if you’re lucky,” Paul said, even as Olli snorted gently nearby. “Oh, yeah, Richard, this is Olli; Olli, Richard. You’re gonna be working together quite a lot.”

“Nice to meet you,” Richard said, as he extended his hand towards Olli.

Olli took it with a shy, yet friendly smile, tall frame seeming to bend a little closer to Richard as though slightly ashamed of his greater height. Richard found that he liked the other man on sight; there was just something in the other man’s gaze that screamed gentle giant.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Olli said, as he shot a glance towards Paul.

That glance was loaded with a meaning that Richard didn’t understand, followed by a nod, as though Olli approved or was giving permission for something. The way that Olli stepped away, quietly, was as though the other man was doing more than merely allowing Paul to show Richard the ropes. That bothered Richard a little, but he couldn’t exactly say why; he tried to put it from his mind, as he followed Paul through the kitchen, to where the fire exits were, and the extinguishers.

“Fire point’s by the shoe shop next door, just so you know,” Paul said, confidently. “It’s not often we have either a fire or a fire drill, but we’re due for one soon. A drill, that is, not an actual fire.”

Richard laughed dutifully, before he followed Paul into the small staff room that joined onto the back of the kitchen.

“I should have showed you this first, but you can stow all your gear in here,” Paul said. “You have your own locker, right beside mine.”

He tapped it heftily and the locker gave out a small yet hefty booming noise. Richard accepted the key that Paul gave him, before he pushed his coat, his bag and umbrella inside.

“Okay, let’s get you booted and suited up, and I'll start showing the you the wondrous job of twisting pretzels,” Paul said, with a grin.

Richard nodded, and allowed Paul to dress him in an oversized apron; he shivered as Paul's hands lingered a little too long against his hips but he didn’t step away. Instead, he leant a little further into Paul’s touch instinctively which earned him an appreciative grin from Paul himself. Paul did not however place Richard's paper hat upon his head; Richard was allowed to do that for himself, and the jaunty angle of it matched that of Paul’s own hat. Paul then took Richard aside and showed him the basics of knotting the pretzels together.

“I won’t expect you to get them perfect on your first day, or even your first week,” Paul assured him. “I’m not even gonna ask you to mix the dough just yet. I don’t wanna overload you with too much junk on your first morning. I’m gonna ease you into it.”

Richard nodded, and watched as Paul’s strong fingers made short work of twirling a long rope of dough into a twisted section of thirds, before Paul repeated the motions slowly twice more for Richard’s benefit.

“So, Reesh, you think you can do that?” Paul asked.

Richard blinked at Paul’s sudden familiar shortening of his name, but didn’t comment upon it nor protest. In fact he thought that he rather liked it. He bent his head and his fingers to the task, and whilst his first attempt wasn’t exactly pretty, he knew that he could only get better from there. He grimaced as he glanced up at Paul, and whilst the other man was obviously laughing, he was at least trying to hide the fact.

“Try again,” Paul said, as he gave Richard another piece of warm dough.

Richard, again made a mess of it, but it at least made a sort of wobbly loop that time. Paul was laughing again, yet he reached out with both hands and laid them atop Richard's. Richard stared at him at close range, at the way that Paul’s lips were still curled into a gentle smile, and the way that the wrinkles curved out in deep curves from the corners of his eyes.

“Follow me,” Paul said, softly, as he manipulated Richard's hands into the proper motions.

Richard was barely taking any notice, attention too consumed by the feel of Paul’s hands against him, and the way that the other man’s fingers felt against his own. He almost leant in and pressed tiny kisses against Paul’s mouth, giving into his growing attraction to the other man, yet he didn’t want to blow his chances, or his job, if he’d read the situation wrong. After all, he had no idea whether Paul was interested or was merely that friendly and openly flirty with everyone.

“You're not listening,” Paul accused him, suddenly, loudly and Richard partially turned away, embarrassed over being caught staring at Paul's mouth “Try again, and listen, this time.”

Richard nodded and turned his gaze down to the dough, enjoying the hefty weight of Paul's fingers pushing and pulling at his hands. If they felt that good against only his hands, then Richard could only begin to guess how they felt against the rest of his body. He could feel the beginnings of an erection against his front of his jeans and he tried to think of the most boring thing ever, as he watched Paul move his hands in the right positions until an almost perfectly formed pretzel lay beneath their still joined hands. Paul moved slightly and for one brief moment, Richard thought he felt a slight bulge in Paul’s pants, as though Paul was suffering from a slight erection of his own. Richard’s own erection threatened to rear again and he swallowed his own lust again as Paul moved away.

“See? Team work! And the pretzel’s not half bad,” Paul said, with a nod as though nothing was happening. “Now you try on your own.”

Richard tried to force himself to concentrate and the effort of trying to get the pretzel right quelled his erection somewhat. He was faced with some relief when he found that his own effort was not so far off that of Paul's, whilst his hands were still joined with Richard’s own.

“See? You’re getting there already. You are a quick learner,” Paul said, as he patted Richard proprietarily upon the butt. “Keep practicing for a while, and I'll be back. I’ve got some pretzels of my own to catch up with.”

Richard nodded and set himself the task of twirling dough between increasingly sticky fingers.

:::

Paul was stopped not long after he’d finally left Richard’s side, by Till; the taller, stockier man had one of his barely-there amused grins upon his face, eyes shimmering brightly with the same emotion. Paul knew that he was in for a ribbing of some kind and he groaned, loud enough for Till to hear. Till’s smile curved into a proper grin at the sound. 

“What is it, Till?” Paul asked, still with that groan darkening the tone of his voice.

“I saw you, with Richard, earlier,” Till said, still grinning. “Making pretzels, were we?” 

Paul stifled another groan, even as a sheepish grin dotted its way across his face. 

“We were,” he said, slowly. “I had to show him how to make the damn things, didn’t I?” 

“By all but groping him?” Till asked, as a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“I wasn’t groping him,” Paul objected immediately. “I was merely showing him where to put his hands.”

“Sounds like groping, to me,” Till said. 

Paul sighed and decided to give up whilst he still was ahead of the game, although where Till was concerned, Paul wasn’t certain he ever would be ahead of the game. 

“Well, can you blame me? Have you seen the guy?” Paul said, finally. “He’s quite the nice-looking fellow.”

“And the rest,” Till said. “Admit it, you can’t keep your hands or your eyes away from him. He’s irresistible, to you, at least.” 

Paul wasn't entirely sure how to answer that, without potentially coming across as being a little sleazy.

“It’s aright to admit it. I won’t judge you for being sleazy,” Till reminded him, as though he’d been aware of what was on Paul’s mind. “Remember, it is me you’re talking to.”

“And you are the very definition of sleazy under the right light, I suppose,” Paul said, musingly.

“If I do say so, myself, yes, I think I do have a handle on that,” Till said, another laugh escaping his lips. “So, about your attraction to Richard, then.” 

“I’ll do something about it, Paul said, with a barely stifled groan of frustration. “When I’m ready.” 

“Good boy; make sure you do, “ Till said, as he mimed groping some indeterminate body part again. “Or else there’ll be plenty of that going on.”

“I didn’t see Richard complaining,” Paul pointed out. 

“All the more reason to ask him out then,” Till replied, smartly. 

All Paul could do was sigh, and wonder what on earth he was supposed to do with Till Lindemann. 

:::

By the end of the day, Richard was twirling dough, not quite like an expert, but better than when he’d started his shift. Paul was pleased enough with his progress to declare that Richard must have been a baker in a past life, which Richard took as the bald faced flattery that it must have been meant to be. Still, he knew that Paul was pleased with him all the same, and the oft mis-shaped pretzels that he’d churned out would not go to waste. Paul was determined to still bake them and sell them as monster-pretzels, replete with suitably scary toppings. Richard had been amused despite himself, at Paul’s seemingly never-ending source of resourcefulness.

The week coalesced soon into a month and Richard, whilst still making a few mistakes, was beginning to love his job. Whilst it was hard work, and tiring, it was fun and Richard was surprised at his own aptitude for it. His relationship was growing with Paul, friendly banter soon turning into genuine friendship, yet still Richard yearned for something deeper, something more meaningful, that was distinctly in the region of a proper relationship.

He still caught the odd frissons of something between Paul and Olli, odd jokes and private asides that were all but incomprehensible to Richard himself. In the end, he decided to ask Paul about it, comfortable enough in his presence by now to ask that much, at least.

“Paulchen?” Richard asked, using the pet name that he’d swiftly picked up from Olli and the rest of the Little Bear staff.

Paul grinned up at him, before he said - “Yes, Reesh?”

Whilst most people called Paul ‘Paulchen‘, Paul still was the only one to call Richard ‘Reesh‘, as yet. Richard wondered if that was by accident or design on Paul's part, and found that he didn’t care either way.

“Forgive me for asking this, but are you and Olli - you know ... together?” Richard asked.

“Olli?” Paul asked, with a sudden sharp snort of surprised laughter. “Not ... exactly, no.”

“Not exactly?” Richard repeated, in confusion.

“Nah,” Paul said, with a laugh. “We were, once upon a time, but that literally was a long time ago. We’re not anymore, not really.”

“Oh?” Richard asked, and there was sudden hope at that.

“No, it petered out a long time ago. Not compatible, really and I don’t mean the size thing,” Paul said, as he mimed Olli’s height against his own. “I mean other things and I don’t feel right talking of them when Olli’s not giving his consent about it, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh shit,” Richard said, in sudden alarm. “I don’t need to know what crap you got up to in the bedroom. No offence.”

“None taken,” Paul said, with a laugh. “I’m not the kind to kiss and tell, just so you know.”

“That is good to know,” Richard said, with a smile.

Paul regarded him for a while, before a sudden, sly smile slid across his face.

“Why? he asked.

“Why what?” Richard asked.

“Why are you asking about Olli?” Paul expanded. “Are you interested in him?”

“Oh shit no,” Richard suddenly said, before he startled in embarrassment. “I mean, he’s a nice guy, don’t get me wrong and I like him, just not in that way.”

Paul laughed gently at that, before he reached out to run one hand over Richard's shoulder.

“Ah-ha, so am I to assume that you’re asking for some other reason, then? Know someone who does like him?” Paul asked, a clear and teasing light in his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, I wouldn’t know,” Richard said. “Shit, this is totally not going the way I intended it to, actually.”

“Oh?” Paul asked, sweetly. “And what were you intending, exactly?”

“Oh fuck this, Paul,” Richard said, knowing that Paul was persistent enough to keep asking until Richard had spilled all. “I was going to ask you out, wasn’t I? This is fucking going wrong and now I’ve fucked this up. You’re probably straight, after all this.”

“Straight? You do remember I dated Olli for a while, don't you?” Paul asked. “As far as I can tell, Olli’s not a girl. Not with that beard.”

Richard laughed at that before he nodded.

“Okay. Not straight. Neither am I,” he said. “Okay. I’m trying to ask you on a date here, Paul.”

“I know. I gathered. D’you want to start again? Have a fresh stab at it?” Paul asked, teasing in his eyes at that. “And we’ll pretend none of this debacle ever happened and I'm just gonna say yes like I don’t know what’s happening.”

Richard's laughter was relieved, before he nodded, and spoke again.,

“Okay. Memory slate’s wiped clean. Paulchen,” Richard said. “May I ask you something?”

“Within reason, then you may do so, Reesh,” Paul replied, civilly.

“Are you free Friday night, by any chance?” Richard asked.

“By some chance and a greater miracle, yes, I am,” Paul said, with a nod. “And why might you be asking that of me?”

“Can I interest you in accompanying me for a meal and drinks afterwards?” Richard asked.

“You can interest me, indeed,” Paul said, with a nod. “Count me very interested indeed.”

“That is wonderful. I am very glad to hear it,” Richard said. “May I pick you up at seven?”

“You can pick me up any time you damn well please,” Paul said, with a laugh.

“Super,” Richard said, before they laughed.

“See. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Paul asked, as he tipped Richard a wink.

“Nah, I guess not,” Richard said, with a put-upon sigh.

Paul pretended offence and dug his elbow sharply into Richard's ribs. His face was then transformed into an easy grin, as a warm chuckle escaped from his lips.

“So where are you taking me, Herr Kruspe, hmm?” Paul asked, with one artfully raised eyebrow that did little to diminish the utter devilishness of his smile.

“I dunno. Perhaps Habel Weinkultur, on Luisenstraße?“ Richard asked hopefully.

“Okay,” Paul said, with a nod. “That’s a nice place.”

Richard was surprised at the other man‘s tone, as it sounded as though Paul was familiar with it; then he remembered Olli, and wondered if perhaps Paul had gone there with the taller man. A sudden surge of jealousy spiked through his body, immediately tamped down by a laugh and a swift rub of an embarrassed hand against the back of his neck. Olli was not part of the picture any more; Olli himself had seemed to make that clear by his very attitude, even if Paul himself had not said as much himself. Richard wasn’t so certain where the jealousy was even coming form, except that it was unlike him to be that way.

“Can I meet you there at about six?” Richard asked, hopefully. “On Friday?”

“Sure,” Paul said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Richard nodded agreeably and even though he didn’t say so aloud, he was looking forward to the evening as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Friday arrived and Richard worked most of the day; whilst Paul was his usual breezy self and seemed unaffected by the coming date that night, Richard couldn’t help but feel an odd roiling of nervousness in the pit of his stomach., He tried not to remember the way that the last few relationships he’d had had turned out; they’d all been nothing short of disastrous, to say the least. 

He left work, with Paul’s loud and cheerful salutations ringing in his ears, coupled with reminders that they were due to meet later that night. Richard had responded with various assurances that he wouldn’t forget, nor was he likely to, all of which had made Paul laugh and drew curious interest from Olli and Till both. 

Paul was already waiting outside the restaurant when Richard arrived, even though Richard knew that he wasn’t late. Paul was partially turned away from him, hands shoved deeply into his trouser pockets; even though the other man was trying for affected nonchalance and relaxation, Richard could see the odd tautness of the other man’s shoulders, as though Paul was more nervous than he’d previously been trying to let on. That made Richard feel a little better. He observed Paul for a while, at the way that the clothes he was wearing seemed to accentuate his body without even trying. 

Richard hadn’t seen that outfit before, too used to the bakery’s flour covered uniform. Paul was wearing a soft black shirt, a dark burgundy tie and black trousers; his hair looked freshly washed and soft to the touch. Then Paul turned and his face lit up when he saw Richard; Richard returned the grin and closed the remaining distance between them, feeling slightly foolish for standing there staring at Paul, when he should have instead, approached. 

“Hallo, Reesh,” Paul said, once again calling Richard by the pet name that only he seemed to use. 

“Hey Paulchen,” Richard said, and he felt brave enough to reach forward and to slip arms around the other man in an uncertain embrace.

He felt a certain surprised stiffness in the other man’s limbs, there and gone in an instant, before Paul’s body relaxed against his and seemed to meld into his own willingly. Paul’s hands, when they shored up against Richard's back, were warm and pleasantly heavy against him, as Paul rubbed one of them against his back. Paul’s mouth pressed an awkward kiss against Richard's cheek and Richard laughed a little at the tickling contact. He wasn’t sure whether he should return the kiss, yet Paul didn’t seem to require it; instead the other man maintained the partial hug as he leant away to appraise Richard's outfit with an appreciative smile. 

“You know I haven’t seen you in your own clothing in a while, Reesh,” he said. “I’d forgotten how good you dressed.” 

“Thanks,” Richard said, in surprise, glad that Paul had even noticed. “I haven’t seen you out of your uniform before. You look really good, by the way.” 

He ran one exploratory hand over the soft nap of Paul’s shirt, and smiled at the firm feel of the other man’s shoulder beneath his palm. Paul laughed at him, although Richard wasn’t entirely sure what was funny; he didn’t get a chance to speak, however, as Paul got there before he did.

“We’d best go inside,” he said.

Richard nodded and followed the other man in; it didn't take long before they were settled at their own table and were ordering from the menu. The food, it turned out, was delicious, yet Richard would have liked a little more gravy than he’d received; the desserts, a rich chocolate cake, liberally oozing with chocolate sauce, was sinfully decadent and pleased both men. 

Richard found that Paul was as good company at the dinner table as he was in the bakery, filled with plenty of funny stories and witty observations that Richard found endlessly interesting. Richard in turn told the other man something of his own life, of how he’d been planning on making a career of music, and whilst he’d had some moderate success in New York, he’d wanted to return to Berlin and make a better go of his career in his home town,.

“Is that why you left?” Paul said, in interest.

Richard mulled over what he was going to say for a few moments, uncertain with how he was going to explain his life story away. Then he realized that there was no easy way to explain the situation as it stood, other than to tell the truth. 

“Only partially,” he finally admitted. “The rest of the story involves a failed marriage and a few bad relationship choices.”

“Oh,” Paul said, in surprise at the revelation. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I guess we all have bad romances, I suppose.” 

“Hmm,” Richard said, but he didn’t add any more to the conversation. 

“I’ve also got a failed marriage behind me, if that’s any consolation,” Paul admitted, quietly. “And some of my relationships haven’t been the wisest choices either.”

“No?” Richard asked, politely, uncertain as to what else he was required to say. 

“Like Olli,” Paul said, with a smile. “He is a nice guy, don’t get me wrong. I love him to bits and always will, but like I said before, we weren’t compatible, and weren’t meant to be. You know how it goes.”

“At least you’re still friends with Olli,” Richard said, without malice. “I can’t claim the same with any of my partners.” 

“Yeah, well, we came to an understanding. I was too vanilla for his tastes,’ Paul said, with a slight smirk.

“Vanilla?” Richard asked, in surprise. “Wait. You’re not seriously trying to tell me that Olli is a bit on the kinky side, are you?” 

“That’s putting it mildly,” Paul said, with a sudden laugh. 

“Olli?” Richard asked again, laughing himself. “We are talking of the same Olli here? Big guy? Shy? Wouldn’t say boo to a goose?” 

“One and the same,” Paul said, his laugh turning into a gentle grin. “You wouldn’t believe someone like that would be so kinky, no?” 

“Jesus,” Richard said, as he took a sip of his coffee. “So what, he’s into all the whips and chains and what have you?” 

“And the rest of it,” Paul said. “I just wasn’t ... dominant enough for him. You’re not into all of that, are you?”

“Me? Hell, no,” Richard said, with a snort. “I mean good for Olli, if he is; I’ve got nothing against it. I’m just ... I’d rather have a bit of straight-up sex, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Paul said. “And I'm exactly the same.”

They shared a grin at that but said little more. They continued to drink their coffee and Richard was surprised when Paul reached across the table to lay a hand upon his own hesitantly, thumb rubbing against Richard's comfortingly. It seemed as though Paul felt comfortable with Richard, after all that they'd shared, but hesitancy still remained, as though the other man still was giving Richard a chance to pull away, if he wasn’t comfortable with the contact. Richard, however, felt heat rising across his body; the contact, minimal though it was, was very definitely welcome. He smiled, and turned his hand over, so that he could fit his palm alongside Paul’s, fingers clasped comfortably against Paul's wrist. Paul smiled at him over the top of his coffee cup, relief that his overture of intimate friendliness had not been rejected. 

In time, they stood and left the restaurant and Paul permitted a partial hug as they walked, Richard's arm resting comfortably about his waist as they walked. Their voices were a low murmur in the night as they talked of nonsensical things, comfortable jokes exchanged beneath the light of the moon. Richard was the first to reach his apartment block, and he looked up to the fourth floor, where his place was. He felt a sudden surge of embarrassment at that.

“I would invite you in for coffee, but I haven’t got a coffee machine yet,” he admitted. “I haven’t even got any proper furniture yet. I haven’t had the time to buy much more than a mattress and the absolute essentials.”

Surprisingly, Paul seemed to find this funny, sudden laugher falling through the air to bathe Richard in sudden warmth.

“What's so funny?” Richard asked, trying for hurt indignation yet failing grandly.

“Nothing, really; I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” Paul said, even as he leant in to give Richard a comfortable hug. “Don't worry, Reesh. There’s always next time. Or you can come to my place. Whatever's best.”

There was a brief, almost embarrassed pause before Paul spoke again.

“There will be a next time, won’t there? I haven't bored you too much tonight, have I?” he asked, genuine worried concern turning his eyes large and soft for a moment.

“No, you’ve been really good company. I’ve enjoyed myself,” Richard told him and he found that he meant it. “We definitely should do it again.”

“Good,” Paul said, with apparent relief and pleasure. “Same time next week? Same place?”

“I’d like that,” Richard said, immediately as he smiled at the other man.

Paul returned the smile but didn’t speak; instead he stared at Richard for a while, before he closed the distance between them, lips hovering a few millimetres before Richard's mouth. Richard transferred the weight of his hand from Paul’s back to his butt, and heard a sudden, encouraging noise of pleasure from the other man’s throat. Richard closed his eyes and the distance between them, and closed his mouth over Paul's own. Paul’s mouth was soft and yielding against his, his kisses sweet, yet oddly arousing all at once; Richard tried to deepen it, yet Paul eased away, before he closed the distance again and sealed his lips against Richard's own. That time, Paul was the one to deepen the kiss and Richard permitted it easily, enjoying the weight and the feel of Paul's tongue licking against his own; his arousal poured through him and he felt his erection beginning to push hard against the front of his boxers. Paul eased away again, and it seemed as though he knew of Richard’s erection.

“Not yet,” he murmured against Richard's mouth. “Too soon, my love.” 

“Yeah,” Richard agreed with an effort, even though he felt disappointment pour through him.

“There’s always another time,” Paul said. “Go slowly.”

“I will,” Richard said, and he meant it that time.

He knew that Paul was worth the wait.


	7. Chapter 7

Richard was as good as his word, even though he initially found it frustrating; he took the relationship slowly, contenting himself with the odd kiss and cuddle exchanged with Paul on their weekly dates and at quick moments at work, retuning home to stroke himself to completion with thoughts of Paul in his mind whilst he was alone upon his mattress, or in the shower. A few weeks went by, with the couple often meeting up after work, for a drink or a meal, and on their third week of formally dating, Richard finally asked Paul up to his apartment.

“It's still not properly furnished yet,” he said, as he led Paul up stairs with some embarrassment. “I’ve got a few bookcases and a fridge, now at least.”

“Ooh, you‘re splashing out,” Paul said, pretending to be impressed.

“Shut up, Landers,” Richard said, with a grin thrown over his shoulder at the other man.

Paul laughed and followed Richard inside; whilst Richard hadn’t been joking about the state of his apartment, Paul found that there were a few more items in there than Richard had first intimated. A beanbag graced the living room, large and soft and comfortable, whilst a laptop nestled beside a brace of expensive looking guitars.

“Oh, look, you have guitars,” Paul said, as he wandered over to them curiously. “These are really beautiful, Richard.”

“Thanks,” Richard said, with a smile of pleasure over Paul’s obvious appreciation of the instruments. “Do you play any instruments, Paul?”

“Me? Yeah, guitar, actually,” Paul admitted, with a gusting huff of a laugh that sounded more embarrassed than modest. “Although I haven’t played in a few years. Do you play often, yourself?”

“Not since I got back from New York,” Richard replied, quietly. “Haven’t had the time or inclination.”

“Oh? That’s a shame,” Paul murmured, as he ran exploratory fingers over the closest fretboard.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Richard said, with a small smile. “Anyway, d’you want to come through to the kitchen?”

Paul nodded, and cast his gaze over the guitars, before he turned reluctantly away from them. The kitchen, when Paul followed Richard through to it, sported a few more utensils than he’d expected, as well as the fridge that the other man had mentioned. Despite the distinct lack of furniture, Paul found that he liked it, with its odd unfurnished charm; it reminded him of his younger days, when he’d shared flats with fellow students and struggling musicians, before he’d found a more stable job.

“What are you thinking about?” Richard asked, as he puttered about the kitchen, knocking mugs together and rattling mismatched spoons as the kettle boiled.

“I was just thinking of when I was a young man,” Paul said, and paused at Richard's sudden snort. “What?”

“You’re not that old, now, love,” Richard explained.

“Flatterer,” Paul said, but he felt quite touched by Richard's compliment, all the same.

“What about last week, anyway?” Richard said. “When you were a young man.”

“Fuck off,” Paul said, as he settled himself beside where Richard worked.

Richard grinned wickedly at him, yet there was a certain soft affection in his eyes that Richard seemed to try and hide, as though he was too frightened of opening himself fully up to Paul. Paul wondered at that, wondered who had hurt the other man so badly that he felt as though he couldn’t fully trust anyone, not even Paul. Sudden sadness made him feel uncomfortable, yet he tried to push through it breezily; his cheerful grin was as much for Richard‘s benefit as it was for his own.

“I lived with a bunch of struggling musicians when I was a student,” Paul explained. “We lived in places like this, but nowhere near even as salubrious as this.”

“Unfurnished though it is,” Richard said, gently, self-deprecatingly. “It must have been fun, though, yes?”

“In a sense,” Paul said, with a shrug. “Once you got used to the raids and the cops and the Stasi paying visits. And I don’t mean for coffee, either.”

“No,” Richard said, glumly and Paul knew then that Richard must have experienced something of what life had been like back then, if not in the same sense as Paul himself had.

After all, they were of a similar age, with Paul being only a few years older than Richard himself.

“I made good friends, there,” Paul said. “Not all of them made it through, but I’ll always remember them.”

Richard gave him a sad smile but didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

“Anyway,” Paul said, roughly. “That was then. It’s over. Things are better now. Aren’t they?”

He wondered why he needed the confirmation from Richard, suddenly lost as he was, yet Richard surprisingly was willing to give it.

“Yes, they are; much better,” Richard said, and he stared at Paul as though Paul was the sole reason why things were better.

Paul smiled at Richard, but remained silent and didn’t speak again until he accepted the freshly made cup of coffee from Richard's hand.

“Thanks, this smells lovely,” he said, as he followed Richard through to the living area.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing a bean-bag,” Richard said, as he slumped down into the large and squishy thing.

“No,” Paul said, as he curled up beside the other man.

He smiled and there was a companionable silence then as they drank their coffee. Paul was the first to finish, to set his cup aside and to stare curiously around the room.

“You know, I could help you with choosing more furniture if you want,” Paul said. “Like with the moving in and everything. If you need me.”

“You don’t need to do that, Paul,” Richard said, and he sound grateful, yet reluctant to accept Paul’s freely given offer of assistance.

“It’s no bother,” Paul assured him. “It might even be fun. I haven’t shifted any great weights in a while.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Richard insisted again.

“You wouldn’t be,” Paul assured him. “You’re my partner, aren’t you? If I can’t even help out the man I love, then who can I help?”

Richard fell silent at that, and Paul cursed himself for revealing too much of his own emotions. He glanced at Richard then, and there was a wounded look of hope in the other man’s eyes, turning them large and soft and almost pleading. Paul had never seen Richard looking like that before, as though he didn’t quite dare to believe his own luck. He smiled and pointedly did not take his own words back; he’d meant them and wanted them to stand as they were, whether Richard chose to accept them or not. Richard nodded and laid one hand upon Paul’s knee, and even though he hadn’t said so aloud, Paul knew that Richard had accepted his words and was trying to return them, in his own, silent, too-masculine way. Paul nodded and smiled, before he exhaled a little shakily through his nose.

“I’ll help,” he said, gently. “I want to, Reesh. Please let me help you.”

“Okay,” Richard said, just as gently. “It would mean a lot to me if you did.”

Paul nodded again but didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he looked around the room again, Richard's hand still laying heavily upon his knee. In time, Richard began to move it, possibly emboldened by the fact that Paul was not complaining about the contact. Paul closed his eyes as Richard's fingers stroked higher and higher, stopping just short of his groin. Paul could feel the beginnings of an erection pressing against the front of his boxers and he gave a soft growl of frustration when Richard refused to move, when all Paul wanted was for him to touch him, to feel the weight of his hand upon his cock, to make love to him even here on the bean-bag.

“Say the word and I’ll do it,” Richard said and it seemed as though he was asking permission.

Paul couldn’t speak, throat too tight with lust to even squeeze out a brief word of consent; instead, he reached down, laid his hand upon Richard’s and moved it up so that their joined fingers were laced over the growing bulge of his erection. He looked at Richard, nodded sharply at him and offered him a shaky smile to indicate that he was ready. Richard smiled and leant forward, pressed kisses against Paul’s mouth and jaw and Paul returned every one of them, moaning when the kisses turned wet and messy and open-mouthed.

Richard's hand was a trapping weight against his groin, fingers bearing down against him in heated strokes and Paul arched up to meet him awkwardly, hips pressing against Richard's palm eagerly, until the other man stopped long enough to fumble Paul’s belt free, to open his flies and to slide slightly shaking fingers into Paul’s underwear.

Paul groaned loudly, deep and dark and willing as Richard begin to stroke him, fingers hot and soft against his partial erection and Paul moaned louder still when Richard picked up the pace, movements growing a little more confident when Paul did not push him away or reject him. Paul wrapped his hand around Richard's, joined him in stroking himself, urged him on into faster strokes and his breathing came choppy and desperate in the otherwise silent lounge. He threw his head back, jaw clenched, knew his time was almost upon him, and Richard drew away, hand soon replaced by the wet feel of his mouth and his tongue and Paul cried out, wordless, aroused, one hand immediately snarling through the soft strands of Richard's hair as the other man began pleasuring him. Paul didn't last long, too aroused by Richard himself to do so and he spilled out into the other man’s mouth with a growl of Richard's name, breathing ragged and worn as Richard sucked and licked him clean whilst Paul rode the last waves of his orgasm.

Richard eased away, and wiped the remnants of Paul's release from his lips, a self-satisfied smirk upon his lips. He pressed an open mouthed kiss against Paul’s mouth and Paul could taste himself as well as Richard on the other man’s tongue; he stroked his tongue alongside the other man’s, enjoying the feel of Richard hot and heavy against him. Richard drew away, before he rested his forehead against Paul's own and spoke.

“Come into the bedroom with me,” he said, but it sounded like a gentle, hopeful offer and not a demand.

“Yes,” Paul said, with a smile.

Richard grinned and kissed him, but it took them a while before they actually moved. Richard was the first to climb to his feet, to offer his hands to Paul and pull him to his feet, before he led Paul into the bedroom, where clothes were shed and caresses were shared, hands hot and heavy and kisses wet and messy as Richard laid atop Paul upon the mattress. They did little more than touch each other for a while, hands exploring the new feel of their bodies yet Paul found that he liked the curves and contours of Richard's body, soft and new and hot against him. Richard's hands were attentive and assured, and Paul was already almost on his way to full arousal again by the time that Richard left his side to fetch the lube and condoms from the bathroom.

“Oh, so you don’t have furniture but you have condoms,” Paul said, with a laugh.

“Well, they are essential,” Richard protested. “I was hoping - “

He broke off then, and Paul laughed at Richard's suddenly embarrassed expression.

“You were hoping I’d sleep with you tonight,” Paul surmised.

“Well, yeah, I was hoping for that outcome,” Richard admitted, a little sheepishly. “I suppose I’ve ruined the mood, now?”

His tone was more a question that a statement, but his eyes were resting firmly upon Paul’s erection, which made him smile. Paul winked at him but didn’t answer; instead, he laid back against the mattress, one hand slowly stroking himself, as he opened his legs in silent invitation. Richard grinned at that and padded across the room, to kneel between Paul’s spread legs. Paul watched him, as he continued stroking himself, faint gasps working past parted lips as he did so. He still was touching himself as Richard began to prepare him, slick fingers breaching him, and Paul groaned his way past the initial stretch and burn of first intrusion before his pain gave way to pleasure and he began touching himself again.

He closed his eyes as his back bowed, Richard's fingers hooking inside him and sending bright sparks of pleasure coursing through his body; he cried out Richard's name as his fingers were soon replaced by the feel of his cock, pushing in slowly. Paul cried out again, as Richard fully thrust himself inside , body shaking as he tried to adjust to having Richard inside him. Richard soothed him through it, running caressing hands across his sides and laying kisses against his cheeks and lips.

“Richard,” Paul murmured, encouragingly. “Reesh.”

He ran his hands over Richard's broad back, felt the other man's muscles flex and contract as Richard began to thrust inside him, slowly, gently at first until Paul showed no signs of resistance, merely eagerness, hips rising and falling with Richard's own, encouraging noises falling past parted lips, growing louder as Richard began thrusting deeper, harder, faster into him. Paul’s cries grew louder still and he gave himself to Richard, gave everything he was, completely relaxed in Richard's hands and against his body; he heard a sudden needy cry coming from Richard’s lips as Richard felt the total trust that he was putting in his hands.

“Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you, Paul,” Richard murmured against him.

Paul climaxed at the sound of abject wrecked emotion in Richard's voice, releasing over them both with cries of Richard's name and a declaration of repeated love for the other man. He felt Richard’s mouth hot and wet against his shoulder, felt it as Richard climax hit and Richard eased away when it was over, hands still resting against Paul's sides. Paul stared at him at close range, at how fragile Richard looked then, how stripped bare and almost wounded as he stared back at Paul with an unguarded, trusting expression upon his face. Paul didn’t speak; instead, he smiled shakily at him and reached up, ran shaking fingers through Richard’s hair, pressed trembling barely there kisses against Richard's eyelids. Richard crowded into Paul then, arms wrapping around his body as though he needed the comfort from Paul’s body and Paul held him, made shushing noises against his hair, felt the abject vulnerability in the other mans body.

They lay there in silence and held each other until Paul felt the other man slowly relax against him, head nestling comfortably against the soft curving juncture between Paul's shoulder and his neck. Richard had fallen asleep, clutching slightly still to Paul. Paul smiled and continued to hold him, eyes closing as he drifted off into sated sleep of his own.


	8. Chapter 8

Morning was dawning by the time Paul awoke; he felt Richard's mouth upon his neck, sucking bruises into his skin. Paul sighed contentedly, and stroked his fingers through Richard's hair as the other man continued marking him; Paul could feel the hard jut of Richard's erection against his thigh. Paul was hard himself, a act that Richard soon discovered when Paul moved Richard's hands between his legs and wrapped his fingers around his erect cock. 

“Naughty boy,” Richard murmured against Paul’s neck appreciatively.

“Want you, Reesh,” Paul murmured. “Want you to fuck me. Take me hard.” 

Richard pulled away and prepared Paul, before he rolled on a condom and laid atop Paul again. Their lovemaking that time was just as desperate as it had been the evening before, and just as loud. Their lovemaking soon transferred to the shower, where they ran exploratory hands over each other's bodies beneath the flowing waters of the shower head, mouths meeting and parting in long, dragging kisses. Richard had crowded Paul against the wall, effectively pinning him there, yet Paul enjoyed the other man’s possessiveness, and seeming domination of him; he gave himself to Richard without thought, without question and Richard seemed aware of that, dumbstruck by it as though he hadn’t expected it or even hoped for it. 

They shared toast and coffee in the spartan kitchen, talking companionably of nothing much at all, before they made their way into the bakery. Till whistled when he saw the state of Paul’s neck, bruises already blooming large against his pale skin. Paul had momentarily forgotten that the marks were even there, and had certainly hadn’t thought that his uniform would do little to cover them.

“Looks like someone got lucky, last night,” Till whistled, as he raised eyebrows at Paul in appreciation that bordered almost on jealousy.

“I did and repeatedly,” Paul said, with a cheeky grin that softened when he booked over at Richard.

Richard hadn’t heard, too busy serving a customer, yet he looked over when he felt Paul’s gaze upon him. Richard’s smile was immediate and there was a contented tenderness trapped in his eyes that Paul hadn’t expected.

“Someone’s got it really bad,” Till offered next. “And I don’t know which one of you two I’m referring to more.” 

“Shut up, Till. You're only jealous,” Paul muttered as he nudged Till in the ribs.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” Till at least had the courtesy to admit. “I swear the main reason you hired that guy was because you wanted to fuck him.” 

“Well, crude way of putting it, Till,” Paul said, with a frown. 

“But you were attracted to him, come on,” Till said.

“Of course. Have you seen him?” Paul said, with a snort. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that attraction didn’t have something to do with it. I was more worried about the guy. He seemed down on his luck. Thought I’d give him a chance. You know this, Till. I told you at the time.”

“I’m teasing you, Paul,” Till remarked, with a soft laugh. “I know. But you have to admit that you were thinking with your downstairs brain.”

“I was, and look where it got me,” Paul pointed out, as he stared at Richard again. 

Richard was beginning to look worried and Paul shot him an encouraging grin. Paul mouthed an - I love you - at him and Richard’s smile was immediate and joyful. 

“I’m glad you finally found someone, Paul,” Till said. “Take your mind off what happened with Olli, or rather what didn‘t happen.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I heard my name mentioned. You leave me out of it,” Olli suddenly shouted, from nearby. 

“Go back to fucking sleep, Riedel,” Till called back. 

Olli’s only response was to turn his back on Till. Till, however, didn’t seem to mind the obvious slight; he was laughing when he turned back to Paul. 

“I think you two go well together,” Till finally conceded, as he pointed to Richard and then back to Paul again.

Richard had already started wandering over to them and so was in earshot when Till had spoken; Paul smiled at his partner, even as Richard smiled out his surprise at Till

“Thanks, Till,” Paul said, even as he smiled up at Richard. “I happen to think so, too.” 

Richard's only response was to smile down at Paul and press a quick, but embarrassed kiss against Paul’s temple. Paul laughed at Richard's embarrassment even as he leant back into the other man’s warmth and pressed one hand briefly against the other man’s shoulder. Richard merely propped his hands upon Paul’s hips gently and watched as Till walked away in mock disgust. 

:::

The following week, Paul was as good as his word and accompanied Richard to an impromptu shopping trip to IKEA. Richard had decided to start with a bed and a wardrobe, to at least try and make his bedroom a little cozier. Paul had agreed, and had made noises to the effect that he wanted to feel comfortable whenever he stayed over. Richard had feigned embarrassment, but Paul could see the secret pleasure warming the other man’s eyes all the same.

:::

“Reesh!”

Richard looked up when he heard Paul calling his name; they were in the bedding section of IKEA, surrounded by all manner of sheets and pillowcases. Paul currently was holding out a package filled with black silk sheets, a dirty grin upon his face. 

“Silk sheets, Reesh,” Paul said, as though Richard was unaware of the contents of the package. “Well, silken, anyway; I think they‘re cotton, really. How about it?” 

“I don’t know, Paul,” Richard said, uncertainly, as he stared at the package held in Paul’s hands. 

“Why not? What’s wrong with them? They’re black. They’re sensuous. They’d feel wonderful against your bare arse, Reesh,” Paul said. “Or rather, more importantly, mine.” 

“Will you keep your damned voice down, Paul?” Richard hissed as he closed the distance between them, snatching the sheet laden package from Paul’s hands.

Paul was laughing but he didn’t stop Richard from taking the sheets away from him. 

“What’s the matter? Are you ashamed of being in love, or something?” he asked, with a flutter of eyelashes that should have looked ridiculous, yet looked effortlessly cute on Paul.

“No, of course I'm not,” Richard said, immediately. “I just don’t want all that we get up to blared out over fucking IKEA.” 

“Granted, and I’m glad you didn’t deny being in love,” Paul said, as he made kissy faces at Richard.

“Sometimes I wonder why I fucking do,” Richard said, gloomily.

“Fucking do what, Reesh?” Paul asked, innocently.

“You know what,” Richard said.

Paul merely raised his eyebrows at him.

“You’re the absolute limit, Landers, you know that? You know I love you. Are you satisfied?” Richard hissed.

“Incredibly. Now do you want those sheets or not?” Paul asked. “Cos if you do. I’ll buy them for you as a house-warming gift. You know, like lovers do.”

“Fucking hell, Paul,” Richard muttered, even as he tossed the sheets into the basket.

Paul laughed, even as he leant in to press a warm kiss against Richard's cheek.

“Thank you, darling,” Paul murmured, as he rubbed one hand against Richard's back.

Richard merely gave Paul a long-suffering sigh and smile, before he moved on. He was still sighing and affectionately shaking his head over the irrepressible Paul, when he turned the corner and received the shock of his life.


	9. Chapter 9

Paul looked on in interest as Richard stared at the man he’d almost collided into. Alarm was written clear over his lover’s face, coupled with something that was almost akin to fear. 

“Reesh? Are you alright, darling?” Paul asked, as he stepped a little closer, still staring at the man that Richard was regarding so closely. 

The man was taller than Paul and broader through the shoulders, although not quite so broad nor so nicely rounded as Richard was. His hair fell in dark curls down to his shoulders, his eyes were a startling blue, and widely fixed upon Richard. Paul couldn’t help but notice that the other man looked at Richard much in the same way as Richard was staring at him, with equal parts concern, alarm, even embarrassed fear. 

“Christoph?” Richard asked, voice strained and hushed. 

“Richard?” the newly identified Christoph said. “I didn’t know you were back.” 

“Yeah, I came back about four months ago,” Richard said, but he didn‘t look happy about the admission. 

“Fuck, Richard,” Christoph said. “Are you back for good?”

“I think so. I hope so,” Richard said, as he shot Paul a quick glance. “I’ve got a few things worth sticking around for.” 

“Yeah?” Christoph asked, even as he followed Richard's gaze to stare curiously at Paul. “New friend?” 

“Partner, actually,” Richard said, quickly. “Christoph, this is Paul Landers. Paul, this is Christoph Schneider, an old ... friend of mine.” 

Christoph’s face suddenly darkened, before his expression cleared into an undeniably nice grin. 

“Come on, now, Richard, we were more than that,” he said, but Paul saw that there was a hint of anger behind the grin.

“We weren’t,” Richard said, and there was anger in his voice at that. “And I made it clear then, that there was nothing between us.” 

Christoph still was staring curiously at Paul, even as Paul himself looked to Richard, uncertain as to what was going on. That there was more than a little history between the two men was obvious, yet it seemed as though Christoph, at least, hadn’t quite laid it to rest. Christoph’s sigh, when it came, was explosive and a little shaky, and the hand that he ran through his hair also trembled.

“What happened to us, Richard? We used to be good friends,” he said,. as he finally glanced back at Richard again.,

“You happened, Chris,” Richard said, firmly, darkly. “I told you I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I wasn’t ready, and you wouldn’t listen.”

Christoph sighed again and there was genuine sadness in that one drawn out noise.

“The amount of times I’ve thought of you over the years while you were away, blaming you for everything that happened, but I was wrong. You weren‘t there when I needed to tell you that,” he said, quietly. “I shouldn't have put you through as much shit as I did.”

Paul watched as Richard's face blanked out in disbelief.

“Are you fucking with me, Chris?” Richard asked, and Paul could see, as well as hear, the anger that thrummed through his partner’s body.

“Reesh, maybe we should just go,” Paul said, quietly, as he laid one hand upon Richard's arm. “It’s not worth it.”

Richard flinched beneath Paul’s touch and almost jerked away, yet he stopped himself at the last minute; his jaw clenched at he looked at Paul and Paul almost stepped away from him himself, alarmed by the sheer raw, hurt anger in Richard's face. But then his face cleared and Paul realized that that emotion was never meant for him, and intended merely for Christoph instead. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve moved on, now, the same as you obviously have,” Christoph said, as he lifted one hand up to show off a wedding ring that graced the third finger of his left hand. “I married my wife, Ulrike, two years ago. I got over you, Richard. You were right and I can‘t apologize enough; I‘m sorry.”

“You said that already, but did you mean it?” Richard asked, sharply.

“We were drunk, that’s all. It shouldn’t have happened, and I should have listened when you tried to tell me that nothing could ever happen between us. For what it’s worth now, I should have listened, Richard,” Christoph said.

“I wish I could believe you, Chris,” Richard said. “You hurt me.”

“We’re going, Reesh. Now,” Paul said, anger suddenly sifting through him at Richard's words.

He glared at Christoph as he shepherded his partner away, and was glad when Richard allowed him to do so. That didn’t prevent Christoph from shouting after them still.

“I said I’m sorry, Richard,” he said. “Listen, I still have the same number if you ever want to ring me up and talk?” 

Richard didn’t bother to answer; instead, he followed in Paul’s footsteps until they were at a safe enough distance away.

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” Paul said, in the tone of voice that brooked no arguments.

Richard could only nod.

:::

“Remember when I said that I’d once been married?” Richard said.

Paul nodded, but remained silent; they both were sitting in Richard's mostly unfurnished kitchen, nursing steaming mugs of comforting black coffee.

“Well, Christoph had been my friend for years and had helped me through it all; he helped me through a lot of shit, actually. One night we got drunk, and well, things went further than they should have done,” Richard said, grimly.

“He didn’t force himself on you, did he?” Paul asked, anger suddenly tightening his fists and his jaw.

“No, no, nothing like that," Richard assured Paul. “I think we mutually were reckless, too drunk to really know what was going on. In the morning, I had regrets, and told Christoph as much, that I wasn’t ready emotionally for a relationship. But he wouldn’t listen. He kept hassling me, saying that we had something between us when we didn’t, basically went from a good friend to a greater nuisance.” 

“That’s awful,” Paul said. “I’ve got a feeling there’s more to it than that.” 

“Well, he started turning abusive. Called me cold and emotionally unavailable,” Richard said.

“You were emotionally unavailable,” Paul said, gently. “I know how it feels when a marriage fails. I was in a bad way for a while after mine ended. It happens to the best of us.” 

Richard nodded at him, a tight smile of gratitude on his lips for Paul’s support. 

“That’s what I said to him, and I kept telling him that I couldn’t give him what he obviously wanted, that I wasn’t ready and that I was too wiped out from what had happened with the marriage. Then he started accusing me of sleeping around, of cheating on him, all manner of things,” he said. “It got so bad that I felt as though I had to up and leave. New York was the only place I could think of to go, that was far enough away from Berlin and that I’d still be able to speak the language.”

Paul laughed gently at that. 

“But you came back,” Paul said.

“Yeah. I figured it was time and I missed the place, y’know?” Richard asked. “I never thought I’d ever bump into Chris again, and I don't care how many times he says he’s changed. I don’t believe him.” 

“Well, hopefully we won’t meet him again,” Paul said, uncertain as to what else to say to Richard. 

“We,” Richard repeated, but there was no rancour in his tone. 

Instead, he smiled, and there was a hint of amazement in his grin, as though surprised that Paul even wanted to stand beside him, at all.

“We,” Paul agreed, firmly. “We’re in this together, Reesh, you and I. I’m gonna stand by you no matter what, ‘cos I love ya.” 

“Thank you,” Richard said, and he looked genuinely touched by Paul’s words. 

He smiled and reached across the table to lay one hand over Paul’s own, but he didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. Paul merely smiled back and remained silent. 

:::

Their love-making that night was slow and tender, Richard's hands a heavy, caressing weight against Paul’s body. Richard’s mouth was warm and attentive where he laid kisses against Paul’s mouth and cheeks; Paul felt the other man laying himself bare for him, making himself deliberately vulnerable and Paul, in turn, gave everything of himself in turn. When he came, it was with a moaned whimper of Richard’s name, hands stilling and trapping against Richard's back; for one moment, it felt to him as though there was nothing else in the world bar the two of them, real and warm and sharing love in the trapping fastnesses of the night. 

He felt the tension in Richard’s body right before the other man came, and Paul held him through it, touched and caressed his lover’s body whilst he climaxed, whispering words of love in the darkness. He heard his own name heavy and wondering on Richard’s lips, right before Richard kissed him; they still were kissing when Richard eased away to lay beside him.

“I love you,” Richard whispered against Paul’s lips, as though to say those words aloud would have broken them of any meaning.

Paul smiled against Richard's mouth and repeated the sentiment right back to the other man, and he still was smiling as he slipped into sated sleep a few minutes later.


	10. Chapter 10

A few days later, Christoph wandered into the bakery whilst Richard was taking a cigarette break in the alley that bordered the back of the Little Bear; Paul was at the counter when the other man approached and for one moment it seemed as though Christoph hadn't recognised Paul. Paul certainly remembered Christoph, and he couldn’t help but feel a scowl begin to work his brows low over his eyes at the sight of the other man. Only the fact that Christoph had a beautiful brunette lady on his arm, who Paul assumed must have been the other man’s wife, stopped him from saying what was on his mind. 

A look of recognition finally crossed Christoph’s face when he saw Paul staring at him, and a tentative smile touched the other man’s lips. Paul didn’t bother to smile back, even though he felt the other man’s wife staring curiously at him. The smile faded from Christoph’s lips, and he sighed. 

“Richard told you the story by now, I suppose?” Christoph asked, by way of greeting.

“He has,” Paul said, a little coldly even to his own ears. 

“And I don’t suppose I’ve endeared myself to you in the process,” Christoph surmised and he looked truly regretful over that. 

“I barely know you, but you could say that, from all that Reesh has told me, yes,” Paul said. “You were out of order.” 

”I know and I tried to apologize for that the other day, remember?” Christoph asked, and Paul, at least, had to concede with a reluctant nod. “I’ve moved on, and so, apparently, has Richard. I want to be friends with him again. We both lost so much through my stupidity.” 

“I can understand that, I suppose, but you have to understand, in turn, that Richard was hurting and you took advantage of him.” Paul said, as he glanced at the openly goggling lady next to Christoph.

Paul did not smile, nor offer any kind of apologies to her.

“I’ve been married myself and suffered through an ugly divorce. I know how bad, how lonely it makes a man feel,” Paul continued. “Richard told you how things stood with him, and you didn't listen. How do you think that makes him feel?” 

“Shitty, quite frankly,” Christoph admitted, and he looked genuinely remorseful. “I don’t know what I can do to make up for that. I feel like I have to even apologize to you and I don't even know you. Not really.” 

“Although the sentiment’s appreciated, it’s not me you should be apologizing to,” Paul told him. “Not really. Although I don’t know how advisable it is for you to be anywhere near Reesh, to be honest.”

Christoph laughed at that.

“Protective, I see. Hmm,” he said, but there was no real rancour behind his words, only sadness. “You really love him, don’t you?”

The words were more of a statement than a question, and Paul almost didn’t answer. Then he gave Christoph a tight nod.

“I do,” he said, just as tightly. 

“I can tell,” Christoph replied. “He needs something good to happen to him and I can see you’re it.” 

Paul didn’t reply, but the lady beside Christoph finally answered.

“I think we should just go,” she said, quietly, still a little baffled. “I also think you owe me an explanation as to what the hell’s going on, Chris.” 

“I think you do, too,” Paul agreed, even as the lady, Ulrike, ushered Christoph from the shop.

“What the hell was that all about?” Till asked, from nearby, obviously having witnessed the whole scene.

Even Olli and Flake were watching curiously; Paul felt a sudden wash of inexplicable shame over the scene and how strange it must have looked to them. 

“Long story,” he said. “Old friend of Richard’s who turned out bad. Richard should be back from his break soon; I’d really appreciate it if you left it to me to tell him what‘s happened.”

“Fine, no gossip,” Till said, but he looked disappointed despite his teasing tone. 

Paul knew how much Till liked a good gossip, even if Till himself outright denied it. 

:::

Richard wandered through to the counter area a few moments later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke; he caught a few curious glances from Olli and Till, and noticed that Flake refused to look in his direction at all, body stiff with sudden tense awkwardness. 

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked Paul, who gave him a sheepish smile. 

“We had a visitor,” Paul replied.

“Police?” Richard asked, even as he wondered at his own stupid question.

“Worse. Your old friend Christoph,” Paul said.

“Here?” Richard asked.

Paul merely nodded in return and gave him an almost embarrassed smile. 

“Jesus Christ,” Richard said, his words following harshly on the heels of an agonised sigh. 

“It is a pretzel shop, Richard,” Flake said, on his way past. “Whoever this guy is to you, obviously he didn’t expect to find you in amongst the sweet and sour dough products.” 

Paul and Richard exchanged a glance, before they both started to laugh. 

:::

The air was redolent with the scents of Wiener Schnitzel and Kaiserschmarrn as Richard followed Paul into Jolesch; his hand was propped comfortably against Paul’s hip and as Paul stopped in the doorway, to wait to be shown to a table, he peppered kisses against the other man’s neck, where it curved and dipped down into the collar of his shirt. He felt Paul sigh against him, and the utter submissiveness in the other man’s body as Richard continued kissing him, one hand shoring up against Paul’s soft abdomen.

“Carry on like that, love, and I might just have to forego dinner, take you home and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow,” Paul murmured against him.

“And that would be a bad thing?” Richard murmured against him, and laughed against Paul‘s neck. 

Paul’s laughter, in turn, was warm and vibrated against Richard's lips;’ Paul leant away and pressed a swift kiss against Richard's mouth before he could complain about the loss of Paul’s neck. 

“No, darling, it’s not bad at all, but I am very hungry,” Paul told him.

“I’m hungry, for you,” Richard said.

“After dinner, you persistent bastard,” Paul said, affectionately, even as a waitress approached to lead them to their table. 

Richard’s back was turned to the door, and so he didn’t see what Paul evidently saw; instead, he saw the way that Paul suddenly stiffened, a dark look crossing his partner’s face. 

“What?” Richard asked, in sudden alarm, as he began to turn around. 

“Don’t,” Paul said, as he reached out to trap Richard's hand with his own, fingers digging almost cruelly into Richard’s flesh. “Don’t turn around.”

“Why?” Richard asked, even as he tried, once again, to turn around.

“I said, don’t turn around. Trust me, love,” Paul said, and there was a hint of pleading desperation in his eyes as he spoke. 

“What the hell’s got your knickers in a twist, Paul?” Richard asked, before he leered suddenly. “You are wearing knickers, aren’t you?”

“Not tonight,” Paul said, but there was only a hint of his usual smile. “Maybe another night, if you ask nicely enough.”

A disturbed look crossed Paul's face and the expression discouraged Richard from teasing further. 

“What?” Richard asked. “What is it?”

“If you wanna know, Christoph’s just walked in,” Paul said, gently. “With his wife.”

Richard cursed softly, but he didn’t turn around. Paul nodded, and although he didn’t let go of Richard's hand, he did loosen his grip upon it. Richard shivered despite himself as Paul stroked his thumb against the soft flesh of his wrist, sending gentle curls of arousal through Richard's body. Richard wondered if Paul had meant that gesture as a distraction as much as he also seemed to want to touch Richard; Paul loved physical contact, as much as Richard himself enjoyed it, from the right people. 

“They haven’t seen us,” Paul said, as he continued to gently stroke Richard's wrist.

“Paul,” Richard said, and there was enough tension in his voice to attract Paul’s attention again. “Please. Not here.” 

Richard stared down at Pual’s gently stroking thumb, pointedly; Paul laughed and stopped stroking him, yet he lifted Richard’s hand and kissed his knuckles gently, eyes resting upon Richard's face.

“You’re a fool, Kruspe,” he said, but Richard wasn’t even sure why he was one. “Easily distracted by sex.” 

“Always,” Richard admitted, with a smile. “You should know better than to be so fucking distracting and tempting.”

“One of my charms, love,” Paul said, even as his gaze flickered over Richard's shoulder.

Richard was just about to complain again, of Paul’s ever shifting attentions, jealous that anyone could hold it so easily over himself, but Paul’s next words knocked his complaints from his mouth before they ever were uttered. 

“They’re sitting at a corner table,” he said, obviously talking about Christoph and his wife. “They still haven’t seen us. I think we’re safe.”

“I hope they don’t see us. I want a nice evening, uninterrupted, with just the two of us,” Richard complained.

“I know, love, so do I, but it wasn’t my choice that they come here, too,” Paul pointed out. 

He sighed through his nose, a loud exhalation that stirred the napkin into brief life beside his waiting cutlery. 

“We don’t have to stay here, you know, Reesh,” Paul pointed out, softly. “We could just go home. To yours, or to mine, I don’t even care or mind.”

“No, let’s just stay,” Richard said, with some resignation. “We can’t leave now, before we’ve even eaten. I am kind of hungry, Paul.”

Paul sighed again, but nodded a smile at Richard.

“You’re right. We’d be stupid to leave. Besides, I think they’d notice us for sure, if we got up now and left. We’d have to walk right past them,” he pointed out.

Richard pulled a disgusted face.

“Let’s stay here. Fuck ‘em. We can still enjoy ourselves,” he said.

“Exactly,” Paul agreed, with a nod.

The waitress arrived at that point to take their order, curtailing their conversation for the time being. They ordered, and once the waitress had left, their conversation pointedly shifted away from troublesome old friends for the time being. Richard was more relaxed by the time their meal was served, and even though Paul was laughing and joking as he was wont to do, and making Richard laugh by proxy, Richard noticed that Paul still was keeping an eye on Christoph. 

“You know, they look really happy,” Paul said, suddenly, as their cheesecake was served.

“Christoph? And his wife?” Richard guessed, without prompting. 

“Yeah,” Paul said. “Perhaps he really has moved on, like he said he had. Like you have.” 

Richard smiled at Paul, before he said - “But I wasn’t the one who was being an arse-hole, Paul.” 

“Perhaps he didn’t mean to be. Perhaps you hurt him as much as he did you,” Paul pointed out.

“Whose fucking side are you on all of a sudden, Paul?” Richard asked, only partially meaning it. 

“Yours, of course,” Paul said, with a roll of his eyes that was only partially joking.

There was an edge of genuine irritation behind it, that let Richard know that for once Paul was trying to say something serious. 

“I’m sorry, Paul, carry on,” Richard said, gently. “What was your point?” 

“Oh, so you do acknowledge the fact that I had one?” Paul said, with a return of his gentle smile. 

“When don’t you have a point?” Richard asked, with a mock groan.

“Fuck you, Kruspe,” Paul said, despite the fact that he was laughing. “You're lucky I love you.”

“I know,” Richard said, simply, which made Paul smile. “How would I even have hurt him? Christoph, I mean.”

“Perhaps he loved you and you didn’t know it,” Paul said, gently. “And don’t scoff.”

“I’m wasn’t going to,” Richard said, indignantly, despite the stab of guilt he felt over the knowledge that he had been about to do just that.

Paul didn’t look as though he believed him, but didn’t comment on it, for which Richard was intensely glad.

“Okay, so let’s just say he did, then why choose just after my divorce to do something about it?” Rihcard asked. “No, fuck that, I can guess.”

“Because you weren’t ready to commit,” Paul said, in his place. “Forgive me for asking, but would you ever have been ready to?”

“With Christoph? No,” Richard said, immediately. “Christoph’s a good friend, but I never have been interested in him the way he apparently wanted me to be.”

“Hmm,” Paul said, thoughtfully, as he frowned at Richard.

A smile curled the corners of his mouth still, which took the edge of his frown.

“What?” Richard asked, as he returned the frown, if not the smile.

“You just said that Christoph _is_ a good friend, not _was_ ,” Paul pointed out gently. “Are you sure you still feel angry with him?”

Richard blinked at Paul for a few moments, but he didn’t know what to say or to think; he couldn’t even remember making the slip-up that Paul had said he had, yet Paul wasn't known to be a liar. 

“I don’t know,” Richard admitted, finally. “Don’t fucking confuse me.”

“I’m not trying to, my love, I’m just asking,” Paul said. “How long have you known Christoph?”

“Since our school days,” Richard confessed.

“Well then, that's a lot of friendship just to throw away on a misunderstanding,” Paul said. “On his part, not yours. He should have been as up-front about his feelings as you were, instead of just forcing himself on you and then blaming you for everything when it all went wrong. I don’t want to play the devil’s advocate here, but he's tried to apologize for what he did to you. I think he’s sorry. I think he wants to put this behind him as much as you obviously do, even if you don’t want to admit it yet.” 

Richard opened his mouth to speak, to protest, to do anything to stop the flow of common sense flowing from Paul, yet he found that he couldn’t. He knew that Paul was right, and that fact surprised him; he closed his mouth and took another sip of his coffee. Paul merely looked smug as though he knew that he’d won. Then Richard did think of something to say. 

“So what? Do I get in contact with Christoph again? Say it’s all water under the bridge with him, now? Is that what you’re saying?” he asked, feeling lost and uncertain.

“It’s not for me to tell you to do anything, Reesh, but I think it’d be nice if you did do something like that. Christoph seems to want to put everything behind him now,” Paul said, and there was a gentle softness to his gaze as though he was uncertain of Richard's reaction to his advice. 

Richard merely nodded, but he didn’t know what to say at first. Then he smiled and poke.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, gently. 

Paul merely nodded but noticeably didn’t pressurize Richard into committing to anything; Richard was glad for that and it made him fall a little more deeply in love with the other man. 

“Paul,” Richard said, softly, after a brief pause. “If anything happens between me and Christoph, I hope that you know that this won’t change anything between us.”

“I never said that it would nor did I think that,” Paul objected, with a laugh. “He’s married now, Reesh, in case you’d forgotten. And we’re happy together, aren’t we?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Richard said, immediately. 

“Well, then, I won’t be threatened if Christoph comes back onto the scene,” Paul said. “Besides, you put up with Olli and you know what happened between him and me before you came along.”

Richard had to laugh at that, before he nodded. 

“Touche,” he said. 

“See? Not just a pretty face, I’m smart too,” Paul pointed out.

“Not to mention modest,” Richard muttered, with a roll of his eyes at Paul.

Paul’s laughter was immediate and infectious, and they still were laughing as they finally took their first bites of their dessert.


	11. Chapter 11

Richard followed Paul into the other man’s apartment, hands resting upon the Paul’s hips, mouth pressing heated kisses against the other man’s neck. Paul’s breathing was harsh and laboured by the time that he fumbled his keys into the lock, and Richard barely gave him time to open the door, before he crowded Paul through it, slamming the door behind them as Paul turned, mouth fumbling messily against Richard's. Richard murmured in amused arousal at Paul’s apparent eagerness, further emboldened by the feel of Paul’s erection pressing hard against Richard's thigh.

They didn’t even make it to the bedroom, bodies crashing sturdily against the sofa in the lounge, hands grappling clothes free from eager bodies. Paul squirmed away from Richard once he was naked, to pad into the bathroom, soon returning with condoms and lube which he handed to Richard. Richard took them from him and slotted himself between Paul's legs, as Paul positioned himself upon the sofa, arms and chest propped against the arm, cushions slotted for comfort beneath his stomach. Richard dipped his hands between the other man’s spread legs and started to prepare Paul, every movement swift and eager, yet methodical, careful not to hurt Paul too much when it came time to enter him. Richard was achingly hard by the time that he rolled the condom on, groaning out Paul’s name at the feel of his own hands moving across his erection; Paul was all but humping the cushions beneath him in frustration before Richard even had the chance to guide himself inside the other man, both men sighing with relief once they were joined. Richard rolled his hips hard against Paul’s once the other man had settled out around him, before he began thrusting into him rhythmically, loud groans falling between them as they made desperate love upon the cushions.

Richard was dimly aware of Paul stroking himself beneath him, Richard's name gasped out amongst incomprehensible moans and grumbles, body rolling back against him every time that Richard pulled away. Richard lost himself to Paul, gave everything he was to him, and enjoyed the feel of the other man so responsive and eager beneath him. He came with a rush of Paul’s name from his mouth, movements erratic as he rode his orgasm out to the last, movements rough and desperate and needy. Paul came soon after, Richard's name a twisted desperate cry muffled against the arm of the sofa, as he stroked himself through his orgasm. 

Richard eased away and slotted himself awkwardly between where Paul still lay and the back of the sofa; there was little space left for Paul himself to cling on to, yet Paul didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he laughingly snuggled closer into Richard’s body warmth, soft and tender and filled with laughing kisses against him. Richard smiled, and held him, eyes partially closed as he thought and pondered on how perfect it all seemed. 

::::

The following morning, Richard awoke, and found that he still was on the sofa. His neck was aching from where he’d being laying awkwardly; Paul still was sleeping soundly against him, one arm drawn up between them, chest rising and falling gently against Richard. Richard sighed and splayed one hand upon Paul’s back, reluctant to wake him, yet an urge to go for a desperate piss spurred him on to shaking the other man gently awake.

“Paul,” Richard murmured. “Paul, liebchen. Paulchen.” 

“Hrrmmhph?” Paul mumbled against him, as he blew warm breath against Richard's naked chest in a sudden sleepy yawn.

“I need to take a piss,” Richard said. “Move, please.”

Paul made a mumbled incoherent noise against him, and partially sat up, face still pouchy and grumpy with sleep. Richard laughed at him and pressed kisses against Paul’s face to bring the smiles back before he shuffled away to the bathroom. Paul was still on the sofa by the time that Richard returned, looking a little more wakeful than he had when Richard had left. His hand was also wrapped around his cock, and Paul was idly stroking himself as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Playing without me? You know that isn’t on, Paul,” Richard murmured, even as Paul aimed a sleepy smile up at the ceiling.

He didn’t speak and neither did Richard, as he settled on the sofa with Paul again. Their love-making that morning was gentle and slow, sleepy and filled with heated caresses and slow kisses and when they climaxed, they still were kissing. 

:::

“Someone looks in a good mood today,” Olli smiled as Paul walked into the bakery, later that morning.

“Yeah, Reesh stayed at my place, last night,” Paul said, with a grin up at the taller man. 

“Ah, well, there you are, then; that explains everything,” Olli said, with an understanding laugh and a typically gentle smile. “You’re really in love with that guy, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Paul said, before he laughed self-consciously and aimed a partially embarrassed shrug in Olli’s direction. 

“Don‘t be like that, Paul; I think it‘s nice,” Olli said, with a typically gentle smile at Paul. “Richard seems right for you and I think you do him good. He seems happier now than when he first started working here.”

“Now that you mention it, he does, doesn’t he? I hadn’t actually noticed before,” Paul said, musingly, comparing the Richard he’d first known at the start of it all to the man he knew now.

Richard, when Paul had first met him, had been morose, lost almost, directionless and alone, yet now, his smiles were more forthcoming and plentiful, and he’d seemed to settle in comfortably with Till, with Olli and with Flake in particular. 

“He’s doing fine,” Olli assured him. “Next thing we know, you’ll be moving in together.”

“Well, it’d be nice, but we’ve barely furnished Richard's place, yet,” Paul objected, with a dry snort.

“Ah, well, I notice you didn’t deny it. You have thought of asking him, then?” Olli teased, lightly, a gentle smile curving his lips as he stared down at Paul.

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes,” Paul said, quietly. “D’you think I should?” 

“Ask him? Hell if I know why you’re asking me,” Olli said. “It’s your flat, and your boyfriend.”

Paul grinned at that, before he said - “I know. I should never ask things of a submissive, right?” 

“Well, I can‘t tell you what to do. It‘s not my way,” Olli reminded him. “I like being ordered around, don’t forget.” 

Paul huffed out a laugh at that, as Richard trolled in through the doorway, looking half-tousled and as well-fucked as Paul still felt. Richard was smiling though and he stopped to press a warm kiss against Paul’s cheek as he passed. Olli nodded and shot Paul a slow, gentle wink.

“Ask him, Paulchen,” he said, once Richard had wandered away again. “Make him fully yours.”

“Yes, sir, master, sir,” Paul said, cheekily. 

Olli at least had the good grace to laugh at that. 

:::

“What were you and Olli talking about when I came in earlier?” Richard asked later that morning. “And don’t say nothing, either.” 

“Actually we were talking about you,” Paul said, slowly. 

“Yeah?” Richard asked, before he frowned. “Oh God, Olli’s not proposing that I join in a threesome, or something, is he?” 

“What?” Paul asked, in surprise. “I don’t think even Olli’s into that. Or at least he wasn’t when I was with him. Not that I was with him long, anyway.” 

“Oh, so no threesomes,” Richard said, and Paul thought he detected a hint of disappointment, at that.

“You actually look disappointed,” Paul teased, as a grin began to curve the corners of his mouth impishly. “I didn’t think you were like that.”

“Well, aren’t you curious as to what they’re like?” Richard asked, grinning himself.

“Maybe,” Paul said, with a smirk. “But I don’t think I’d be too happy sharing you with anyone else, if I’m honest.”

“Good, because I definitely want you to myself,” Richard said, with a smirk of his own. “Seriously though, what were you and Olli talking about?” 

“Like I said, you,” Paul repeated.

“Well? What about me?” Richard asked. “Oh fuck, Paul, I’m getting the sack, aren’t I?”

“What the - ? Who said anything about the sack?” Paul asked, in sudden alarm. “I’m not sacking anyone, not less my own partner.” 

Richard huffed, but otherwise said nothing; Paul’s words had done little to convince him, it seemed. Paul sighed and wondered how best to ask Richard to move in with him. 

“Actually, I wanted to ask you this when we got home. To my home, that is,” Paul clarified. “Which could be yours, if you wanted it to be.”

“Paul?” Richard asked, confused.

“It’s my fucked up way of asking you if you’d consider moving in with me,” Paul said, with an embarrassed laugh. “If you could put up with my grumpy arse in the morning.”

“You're not that bad, Paulchen. I’m far worse than you are,” Richard reminded him. 

“Yeah, I still remember the time when you nearly punched me just because I asked you whether you wanted coffee with your scrambled eggs,” Paul laughed, ruefully.

“I was half asleep. I thought you were a burglar,” Richard reminded him.

“Carrying half a pound of uncooked bacon and a carton of eggs? I doubt it,” Paul said. 

“Well, I don’t know what people like to burgle, do I? Could have been a farm fanatic,” Richard said, with a shrug.

“Fucking farm fanatic,” Paul said, laughing.

Richard merely shrugged again and had the grace to look embarrassed.

“You still haven’t answered my question, fumbled though it was,” Paul reminded him, after a brief pause.

“Let me think about it,” Richard said. “It’s a hell of a decision to commit to, Paul.”

“I know, darling, and I don’t make the offer lightly, either,” Paul said, seriously. “It’s a hell of a commitment on my side, too, don‘t forget; I‘m inviting you into my home. ‘Cos that’s what it is, a commitment.”

Richard stared at him for a while, surprised at how serious Paul looked; he couldn’t remember seeing Paul quite that serious before. 

“Would you really want to make that commitment to me of all people?” Richard asked. 

“What d’you mean, to you of all people? Why not you? Far as I know I’m not in love with anyone else,” Paul scoffed, but he waved his hand at Richard in apology, even though he didn‘t seem quite to know what to say.

Richard nodded anyway, accepting the fumbled apology. 

“You’d seriously be willing to live with me and my shit? I’m a fuck-up, Paul,” Richard said.

“I knew that before I started dating you and I’m still with you,” Paul said. “Last time I looked I was in a similar position to you. Divorced and in a string of relationships that weren't good for me, plainly. You are the only person that seems to make sense of things.”

Richard seemed unable to know what to say to that and Paul tried a tentative smile, a smile that was suddenly kissed away by Richard.

“Thank you,” Richard said, when the kiss was over. “And no, I don't mean for the fucking kiss, Paul. I know you, y’know.” 

Paul merely laughed at that, hands held high in the air as though caught in the act of doing just that. Richard grinned back before he sighed.

“Just let me think about what you said, Paulchen, okay? I’m not saying no, though,” he said, quietly.

“But you’re not committing yourself to a yes, just yet,” Paul finished. “It’s a big decision, I know, and it’s not for me to push you into anything. Take your time, liebchen, however long it takes you.” 

“Thank you,” Richard said, before he kissed Paul’s forehead.


	12. Chapter 12

It didn’t take that long for Richard to finally make his decision. For the remainder of that day, he thought of Paul’s offer whilst he worked, making pretzels and serving customers; he watched Paul in the times when he wasn’t busy, at the way that Paul laughed his way through everything and seemed to be happy, no matter what was happening. Richard couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier than he was when he was with Paul; he certainly couldn’t remember a time when he’d been in love with someone in the same way that he was with the other man. Oftentimes, Paul would catch him staring at him musingly and his smile would soften into a private grin that seemed reserved solely for Richard himself, as though Paul was privy to what Richard was thinking about. Richard supposed that it wasn’t all that hard to guess the direction of his thoughts after all; he sighed and even before lunchtime was even finished he knee that his decision had already been made, and probably had been made hours before. By the time that their shift finally ended, Richard approached Paul, and nodded. 

“I’ve made my decision,” Richard said, even though Paul was already grinning. “I want to move in with you. I want to make that commitment to you.”

“Good. I’m glad,” Paul said, quietly, despite his grin. 

“Seems silly doesn’t it? I haven't even bought all of my own furniture, now I’m gonna have to sell it again,” Richard said, musingly.

“That's what eBay’s for, isn’t it?” Paul snorted. 

Richard laughed, before he said - “Yeah, I guess. When d’you want me to move in?”

“Whenever you feel comfortable doing so, Reesh,” Paul said, quietly. “It’s up to you. I’ll be waiting for you whenever you decide.” 

“Okay,” Richard said. “Give me a while to adjust to the idea, and then I will, I promise.”

Paul’s only response was to nod, happily.

:::

A while turned out to be three weeks. Whilst Richard still had to sell off his furniture, or at least the things that he hadn’t been able to return to the stores as unused goods, he found that he wasn’t as spooked as he would have thought by sharing space with someone else, again. He’d spent enough time staying at Paul's apartment to feel comfortable there, to know the routines of the place and to know how to move around the various spaces comfortably whilst Paul was there. Paul himself, however, didn’t seem to need time to adjust to having Richard there; it seemed to Richard as though Paul had already grown accustomed to the very thought of Richard‘s constant presence, even when Richard hadn’t even become a permanent fixture in the apartment yet. 

“How d’you feel about having a party, Saturday night? Like a house-warming party?” Paul asked, after Richard had stayed for two days. 

“It’s your flat,” Richard said, with a shrug.

“No, it’s our flat, Richard,” Paul corrected, patiently. “Which is why I was asking you. Do you want a party, or would you rather not have the bother of it all?” 

“Why do we need a party?” Richard asked, genuinely perplexed. 

“It’s what people do, isn’t it? Celebrate the beginnings of happy times?” Paul asked, and he looked sad, almost lost by the thought of possible rejection of his idea. “I know; it’s a fucking stupid idea. Forget I brought it up. You’re right.”

“No, darling, don’t be like that,” Richard said, feeling immediately guilty for even questioning the other man. “I didn’t know you felt like that, is all. You’re right, not me.”

Paul merely stared at him with those soft and wounded puppy eyes that always made Richard’s heart ache to see them; even though he’d said yes, those eyes did not go away entirely. Richard sighed and pressed kisses against Paul’s eyelids. 

“We’ll have that party, Paulchen. It’s a lovely idea. Thank you,” he said. 

“Okay,” Paul said, but he didn't sound convinced. 

“Who’s on the guest list?” Richard asked, in an attempt to make up for his earlier gaffe by renewed interest.

“The guys at the Little Bear, of course,” Paul said, immediately. “Plus a few other friends of mine I’d like you to meet. Musician friends, mostly. I know how you still want to make a go of things with your music.”

“I didn’t know you had musician friends,” Richard said in surprise.

“I’m glad you didn’t feign surprise at my having friends at all,” Paul said, with a laugh. 

“You could make friends with a damned lamp-post, you could,” Richard said. 

“Nah. Tried that once and it was boring company,” Paul said, with a shrug.

Richard snorted out a laugh, even as Paul continued talking.

“In all seriousness, though, there still are some things you don’t know about me,” Paul said, with a smile. “Like how I used to be the guitarist in punk bands when I was younger.”

“Punk bands? You?” Richard asked, in surprise.

“Well, I wasn’t always a pretzel baker,” Paul pointed out, in amusement. “I was just luckier than most in that I got myself a steady job. Remember those guys I once told you that I used to squat in places with? Some of those were the unlucky ones; a few died, actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard said, suddenly feeling guilty. “I’ve put my foot in my mouth again, haven’t I?” 

“No, you haven’t. You weren’t to know,” Paul said. “It’s not like I’ve told you the full story, yet, anyway.”

“I’d like to hear the whole story, when you’ve got a mind to tell it,” Richard said, with genuine interest. 

“Maybe someday. You'll have to tell me about your time in New York,” Paul said. “You don’t talk about what happened there, very often.” 

“I suppose not,” Richard conceded. “But I will tell you, in time.”

“Hmmm,” Paul nodded, before he fell silent, expression suddenly thoughtful and distant. 

It looked to Richard as though Paul was reliving some distant memory, and judging by the growing darkness in his partner's misty-blue eyes, it seemed as though those memories were not pleasant ones.

“I do like your idea of meeting your musician friends, though,” Richard offered tentatively. 

“Yeah?” Paul asked, and whilst he looked towards Richard, it seemed as though his attention still wasn’t fully on him. 

“Yeah,” Richard repeated. “I came back here to concentrate on my music career and what have I been doing instead? Selling pretzels.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with selling pretzels. It’s respectable,” Paul said, even as he laughed at Richard. “And it’s a steady job. Don’t knock it.” 

“I’m not knocking it,” Richard said, laughing himself. 

“Plus, you wouldn’t have met me, if you hadn’t started selling pretzels,” Paul added. 

“I said I wasn’t knocking it, Paul; I’m grateful, I really am,” Richard repeated. “Honestly, though, if you had the chance to pursue a career in music, or sell pretzels, which would you rather?” 

“Be a rock star,” Paul said, immediately.

“My point exactly,” Richard said. “Perhaps you should take up the guitar again. Didn’t you say that's what you used to play? In your punk bands?” 

“Yeah,” Paul said, with a nod. 

“Well, then, perhaps I’m not the only one who needs to bond with fellow musicians,” Richard said. “You should, too.”

“Huh, perhaps we should start off a band, together,” Paul said, with an arch lift of one eyebrow and a devilish smile.

“Well, why not?” Richard asked, with a defiant shrug. 

“Hmm,” Paul replied, and Richard was glad to note that at least the other man seemed to be giving the suggestion some serious thought. 

“Paul,” Richard said, to attract the other man’s attention back to him again. 

“Reesh,” Paul replied, with that devilish smile that Richard liked so much firmly in place on his lips again. 

“Food. What about food? What food are we having for the party? And drink?” Richard asked, feeling as though he was potentially babbling yet not entirely caring. 

“Not pretzels,” Paul said, immediately. “I could do without pretzels for a day at least.” 

Richard smiled, and Paul returned it, before the couple began to plan out the party’s intricacies. 

::::

“I can’t believe you talked me into asking Christoph to come,” Richard groused, over the beer that he’d been nursing all evening. 

The party had been a rousing success, and Richard had found some interesting conversationalists amongst many of Paul’s friends; he could even see some potential in building a band with a few of them, with Paul included on guitar duties. 

“Well, it didn’t seem right that my friends came and yet none of yours,” Paul pointed out gently. “And I did say that you could ask anyone else that you wanted. It’s not my fault that you only asked Christoph and his wife.”

Richard grunted at that, but said nothing else; he knew that Paul was right. Still, he tried to grin at Paul, which turned into a more genuine one when Paul leant in to press a gentle kiss against his mouth.

“Cheer up, grumpy-face,” Paul said. “This party’s supposed to be for you, after all.” 

“I’m enjoying myself,” Richard insisted. “I am!”

This last was for Paul’s benefit when it seemed as though Paul was giving him the disbelieving side-eye. Paul’s expression softened into a grin and then a laugh, before the couple were interrupted by Olli who was carrying a plate filled with, inexplicably, nothing but scrambled eggs on toast. Olli seemed to want to talk about nothing but how good of a time he was having, which led both Richard and Paul to surmise that the taller man was royally drunk. 

The rest of the evening passed by quickly enough, yet still Richard didn’t relax until he was finally alone with Paul. Even Christoph’s presence hadn’t been as strained, nor as horrible, as Richard had imagined it would have been, proving that Christoph’s earlier overtures of apologetic remorse seemed mostly genuine, and that his interest in renewing their former friendship was also a genuine one. The fact that Christoph was happily married also had a major part to play in Richard accepting the other man‘s apologies, and that he also appeared to have no interest in coming between Paul and Richard allayed some of Richard’s fears; he knew he would have gladly fought anyone if they'd dared to threaten all that he’d built with Paul.

As they lay in bed that evening, breathing heavily and still sweating after their second bout of ardent love-making, Richard found himself staring down into Paul's closed-eye face, at the way a small smile still touched Paul’s mouth even in sated relaxation. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Richard suddenly murmured, and Paul’s smile broadened into a grin.

“I’m not asleep, so I heard that,” Paul murmured, even though he didn’t open his eyes. 

“You were meant to,” Richard said. immediately. “I’m not ashamed.” 

“I never said you were, darling,” Paul murmured, even as he cracked one eye open to stare lopsidedly at Richard. 

“You know, you were right about tonight, Paul; it was good fun,” Richard murmured, as a way to change the subject. 

“Of course I was,” Paul said, smugly. “All my ideas are good ones.”

“And you’re modest as ever, I see,” Richard murmured, as he pressed affectionate kisses against Paul’s puckered mouth. 

“And you love me all the same,” Paul said, confidently.

Richard couldn’t disagree with him, and Paul laughed, even as he leant in to press feather-light kisses against Richard’s lips. Richard returned every single one of them, even as his mind wandered randomly to something that Paul had said many weeks before. 

“Paul,” he said, in between kisses. 

“Hmm?” Paul asked, and the noise sent tickling vibrations against Richard’s lips. 

“D’you remember when you first offered me a job at the Little Bear?” Richard asked. 

“Yeah,” Paul asked, as he dotted another kiss against the corner of Richard’s mouth, following it up with a swift lick of his tongue. 

“And how you made me promise not to tell Flake that you thought he was a skinny guy with a weird nick-name?” Richard asked.

Paul leant away, with a surprised look on his face.

“I said that?” Paul asked, with a puzzled grimace.

“You did,” Richard said, firmly.

“I guess I must have done, but I don’t remember doing so,” Paul said, with a sudden laugh. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, you also made me promise to ask you what your first impressions were of me,” Richard said, suddenly wondering why he even wanted to know.

“Now that I do remember,” Paul said, warmly, with an equally warm chuckle, before he fell silent. 

“Paul?” Richard said, warningly. “Are you gonna tell me or not? It was something horrible, wasn’t it?” 

“No, it was really nice, actually,” Paul said, with a soft smile. “I thought you were hot, but somewhat sad in an intriguing, but sexy way. Plus I thought you had a bloody lovely arse.” 

Richard couldn’t help but laugh at Paul’s frank confession.

“My God,” he said, as he shook his head at the other man.

“What? You asked,” Paul pointed out, as he raised his eyebrows at Richard and tried not to laugh in turn. “And now, you have to tell me what you thought of me.” 

“I do?” Richard teased. 

“You do, and you must,” Paul insisted.

“I thought you were the nicest looking man I’d ever seen, and that you had nice eyes and a lovely body. I thought that you were the very definition of love at first sight,” Richard said. “And I have never fallen in love with someone so easily before you.” 

“Seriously?” Paul asked, visibly taken aback by Richard’s confession. 

“Never been more serious,” Richard confirmed, as he leant in to press a kiss against Paul‘s mouth. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Paul murmured against his lips. “I wouldn’t mind it if you made love to me again, Reesh.” 

“Gladly,” Richard laughed, even as he maneuvered Paul onto his back once more.


	13. Epilogue

one year later

Richard looked up when he heard his name murmured nearby; he smiled into the hopeful face of Christoph on the other side of the counter.. Richard dusted off the remnants of pretzel crumbs from his hands, before he nodded a greeting at the other man.

“Hallo, Chris,” he said.

“Hey, Reesh,” Christoph replied. “Are you ready for rehearsal later?” 

“When am I not ready for it?” Richard countered, patiently, with a smile. 

Christoph rolled his eyes, but still grinned; Richard, alongside Paul, was one of the hardest working members of their recently formed band at rehearsal. Other than Richard, Paul, and Christoph themselves, Till, Olli and Flake had been convinced to join; Flake was the only one who seemed reluctant to be included, yet Richard knew that even Flake enjoyed himself in his own way. 

“Same time, same place?” Christoph asked, even as he glanced up at the menu board. 

“Yup,” Richard replied. “Same as ever.”

“Good,” Christoph murmured. “Any recommendations for your damned pretzels, there, Reesh? I swear you guys purposefully have too many choices on offer just to confuse customers.”

“Only the indecisive ones,” Richard countered, with a smile. “Might I interest you in the rum and raisin today? Or perhaps the sour cream and chive?” 

Richard had to feel a certain sense of deja vu over the purposefully chosen pretzels; after all, those had been the choices that Paul had first offered to him when they’d first met. Christoph nodded, distractedly, as though the choice didn’t really matter to him and Richard supposed that it didn’t. 

As he wrapped Christoph’s pretzels carefully in crinkling paper packages, he couldn’t help but glance over at Paul, busily serving a customer of his own nearby; Richard smiled, even though Paul had, as yet, to glance back at him. He felt a sudden wash of warm pleasure winding its way through his body, at the thought of all that had happened since first he‘d walked into the Little Bear so many months ago; he’d not only found a job that he was happy with, he’d also found a man to settle down with and that he loved with every fibre of his being. His future looked bright, with a stable home to return to every night, a band to concentrate his energies into and a newly forged friendship with a man he’d long since thought lost to him. 

Paul looked up once his customer had gone and the grin that he gave Richard was bright and warm, yet heartbreakingly tender. Richard grinned back, even as he thought that it was ridiculous being so grateful towards a brace of pretzels, even if said pretzels had given him all the happiness in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I hate to say it, but that's all, folks; it's the end! Thank you so much to all for reading, for leaving your lovely comments and for also leaving kudos. I can't adequately express in words how happy and appreciative that has made me; all I can really say is 'thank you, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had in writing it'. ♥


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